Chương 13
He rubbed his hands together against the cold.
His mother said, “I would like to apologize to her.”
“No.”
Evelyn’s face tightened.
“Not yet.”
“She deserves to hear it.”
“She deserves not to manage your apology.”
“I am not asking her to manage anything.”
“You don’t know whether you are.”
Evelyn looked angry again.
Good.
Anger was easier for Daniel than grief.
“She asks about you,” he said.
His mother’s anger vanished.
“How often?”
“I’m not answering that.”
“Does she miss me?”
“Of course she misses you.”
Evelyn looked down.
Daniel watched her eyes fill.
She blinked before anything fell.
He had inherited that from her.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“You keep seeing the therapist.”
She gave him a look.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“You don’t control my medical decisions.”
“No. I control access to my daughter.”
Evelyn’s jaw hardened.
Daniel almost softened the sentence.
He did not.
“If Lucy wants to see you,” he said, “it starts supervised. Short. Neutral place. No correction of her clothes. No comments about her body, appetite, manners, volume, or how she represents the family.”
“I am allowed to expect basic manners.”
“Then don’t see her.”
Evelyn stared.
Daniel waited.
His mother looked toward the front window.
Lucy’s planetarium projector sat visible on a shelf inside.
“She has always been a noisy eater,” Evelyn muttered.
Daniel laughed.
He could not help it.
Evelyn looked offended.
Then, astonishingly, one corner of her mouth moved.
It disappeared almost immediately.
“Fine,” she said.
“Fine what?”
“I will not correct her eating.”
“Or clothes.”
“Fine.”
“Or volume.”
“Within reason.”
“Mom.”
“Fine.”
Daniel nodded.
“No promises beyond that.”
“I understand.”
He reached for the door.
Evelyn said, “Daniel.”
He turned.
“I did love you.”
The past tense hit him first.
Then the defense inside it.
He looked at her for a long time.
“I know.”
Her face tightened.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He opened the door.
“That’s why this is hard.”
The first supervised visit happened three weeks later at a public botanical garden.
Lucy chose the place.
Not Daniel.
Not Evelyn.
Dr. Brooks had suggested giving Lucy control over small, concrete parts of the meeting.
Place.
Length.
Whether there would be food.
Lucy picked the garden because “Grandma can’t yell in the cactus room.”
Daniel did not tell Evelyn that reason.
They agreed on forty-five minutes.
Rachel came too, which annoyed Evelyn and reassured Lucy.
They met near the entrance.
Evelyn wore flat shoes.
Daniel noticed that because she hated flat shoes.
Lucy stood beside him in leggings, a sweatshirt with a glittering fox on the front, and sneakers.
Evelyn saw the outfit.
Her mouth moved slightly.
She said nothing.
Daniel nearly smiled.
Lucy hid behind his arm.
Evelyn did not approach.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
“Hi.”
“I’m glad to see you.”
Lucy looked at Daniel.
He said nothing.
She looked back at Evelyn.
“Are you still mad?”
Evelyn’s face changed.
“No.”
“Were you mad at me before?”
“Yes.”
Lucy pulled one sleeve over her hand.
“Because of juice?”
“Because I thought you were behaving badly.”
Daniel felt his shoulders tighten.
Rachel touched his arm once.
Not to comfort him.
To keep him quiet.
Evelyn continued, “I handled it badly.”
Lucy looked at the floor.
“You didn’t give me dinner.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Evelyn inhaled.
The answer took too long.
Daniel let it.
“Because I was angry,” she said. “And because I cared more about how the dinner looked than about how you felt.”
Lucy’s forehead wrinkled.
Evelyn said, “That was wrong.”
Lucy looked toward Daniel again.
He remained still.
She asked, “Did Dad know?”
“No.”
“You said he did.”
“I lied.”
The word made Evelyn visibly uncomfortable.
Lucy’s face did not change.
“Why?”
“Because I wanted you to listen to me.”
“That’s bad.”
“Yes.”
“You tell me not to lie.”
“Yes.”
“That’s hypocrite.”
Rachel coughed into her fist.
Evelyn stared at Lucy.
Then at Daniel.
Daniel looked at a cactus.
Evelyn said, “Hypocritical.”
Lucy frowned. “That’s what I said.”
“It’s close.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
His mother had lasted less than four minutes before correcting grammar.
Then Lucy giggled.
Rachel laughed.
Even Evelyn smiled.
The tension did not disappear.
It changed shape.
They walked through the garden.
Lucy stayed mostly beside Rachel at first.
Evelyn did not touch her.
In the orchid room, Lucy asked whether flowers could be poisonous.
Evelyn knew the answer to some of them.
She always knew the answer to things like that.
For ten minutes they talked almost normally.
Then they reached a café.
Evelyn said, “Would anyone like—”
She stopped.
Daniel watched her.
Evelyn looked at Lucy.
“What would you like?”
Lucy studied the pastry case.
“A cookie.”
Evelyn opened her purse.
Daniel almost intervened.
Then stopped himself.
Lucy chose a chocolate cookie.
Evelyn bought it.
No comment.
No instruction to split it.
No reminder about lunch.
Lucy ate half.
Then handed the rest to Daniel.
“I’m done.”
He took it.
Evelyn watched.
Her fingers tightened around the receipt.
She said nothing.
That silence cost her something.
Daniel saw it.
He did not reward her for it.
At forty-two minutes, Lucy announced she wanted to go home.
Evelyn’s face fell.
She recovered.
“Of course.”
At the entrance, she crouched but did not reach for Lucy.
“May I hug you?”
Lucy looked at Daniel.
Then back at her grandmother.
“No.”
Evelyn went very still.
“Okay.”
Lucy looked uneasy.
“You’re sad.”
“Yes.”
The answer surprised Daniel.
Lucy pulled at her sleeve.
“Are you mad?”
“No.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Lucy nodded.
Then she ran to Rachel, who had found a vending machine and was trying to persuade it to return a dollar.
Evelyn remained crouched for another second.
When she stood, her eyes were wet.
Daniel said nothing.
His mother looked at him.
“I wanted to tell her that was rude.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t.”
“I noticed.”
The words almost became praise.
Daniel stopped there.
On the drive home, Lucy kicked her feet lightly against the back of the seat.
“Grandma was weird.”
May you like
Daniel smiled.
“How?”
