Chương 12
“I thought the police had it.”
“They returned it months ago.”
“Why do you still have it?”
Richard touched the edge of the box.
“I didn’t know what to do with it.”
Claire looked at the bent plastic teeth.
One side still carried a faint green grass stain.
“Throw it away.”
Richard nodded.
“All right.”
Lily came over.
“What’s that?”
Claire almost covered the box.
Then stopped.
Lily leaned closer.
“My old crown.”
“Yes,” Claire said.
“It broke.”
“Yes.”
Lily touched the lid, not the tiara.
“Can I have a new one?”
Richard looked at Claire.
Claire smiled.
“For your next birthday.”
“With purple jewels.”
“Obviously.”
“And Elsa.”
“We may have copyright complications.”
Lily had no idea what that meant.
She ran back to the lawn.
Richard picked up the box.
“I’ll throw it away.”
Claire watched him walk toward the garage.
“Dad.”
He turned.
She almost changed her mind.
Then she said, “Wait.”
Richard came back.
Claire took the box from him.
She removed the tiara.
It felt absurdly light.
She had spent a year thinking about it as evidence, symbol, weapon, proof.
It was cheap plastic covered with gold fabric and glitter.
One tooth was missing.
Claire carried it to the trash can beside the grill and dropped it in.
The lid closed.
That was all.
No relief rushed through her.
No part of the past disappeared.
She returned to the patio.
Richard was looking at the lawn.
“Marlene asked if she could write Lily a birthday card next month.”
Claire sat beside him.
“She can.”
He nodded.
“Just a card.”
“I understand.”
“If she asks for more, the answer is still no for now.”
“I understand.”
Claire watched Lily push the red firetruck across the grass instead of riding it.
Richard said quietly, “I’m sorry I made you become the person who had to set every boundary.”
Claire did not look at him.
“That’s a better apology.”
“Than what?”
“All the other ones.”
He smiled faintly.
“I’ve had practice.”
“Unfortunately.”
They sat together.
After a while Richard said, “Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?”
Claire considered lying.
It would have made the afternoon nicer.
“I think I already have in some ways.”
He waited.
“That doesn’t mean I trust you the way I used to.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t want to go back to how we were.”
Richard looked at her.
Claire nodded toward Lily.
“How we were is how we got here.”
He followed her gaze.
Lily had abandoned the truck and was crouched near the black metal gate, investigating a line of ants.
Richard said, “Then I don’t want to go back either.”
Claire believed him.
Not completely.
Enough for that afternoon.
Two weeks before Lily’s fifth birthday, Marlene called Claire for the first time since the courthouse proceedings.
Claire nearly let it go to voicemail.
Then answered.
“Hi.”
Marlene sounded nervous.
“Hi.”
A pause.
“I’m calling because Richard said you wanted me to speak to you directly if I had something to ask.”
“That’s right.”
“I’d like to attend Lily’s birthday for thirty minutes.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Marlene rushed on.
“I understand if the answer is no. I won’t ask Richard to persuade you. I won’t bring Amanda. Amanda doesn’t even know I’m asking. I just wanted to ask you.”
Claire looked across her kitchen.
Lily was at the table coloring a horse blue.
“Why thirty minutes?”
“Because I thought an end time might make it easier.”
That was sensible.
Claire disliked that too.
“I need to think.”
“Of course.”
Claire expected Marlene to add something.
She did not.
“Okay,” Claire said. “I’ll call you.”
“Thank you.”
They hung up.
Claire sat at the table.
Lily continued coloring.
“Who was that?”
“Marlene.”
Lily looked up.
She remembered the name.
Children remembered more than adults preferred and less than adults feared.
“Grandpa’s Marlene?”
Claire smiled.
“Yes.”
“She makes lemon squares.”
“Yes.”
“Can we have lemon squares at my birthday?”
Claire stared at her daughter.
“Maybe.”
“I like the corners.”
“Why?”
“More sugar.”
Reasonable.
Claire called the therapist.
This time she already knew the therapist would not decide for her.
So she asked a better question.
“How do I tell the difference between protecting my daughter and keeping someone punished?”
The therapist was silent for a moment.
“You may not always be able to.”
“That’s comforting.”
“You can look at behavior. Has Marlene respected the boundaries you set?”
“Yes.”
“Has she pressured Lily?”
“No.”
“Has she minimized what happened since correcting her statement?”
“Not to me.”
“Has Lily expressed fear of her?”
Claire thought.
“No.”
“What are you afraid will happen?”
Claire looked toward the kitchen.
“I’m afraid Lily will like her.”
The truth embarrassed her.
The therapist did not rescue her from it.
Claire laughed once.
“That sounds terrible.”
“It sounds specific.”
Claire rubbed her forehead.
“If Lily likes her, then I have to deal with the fact that Marlene can be someone who failed her terribly and someone she enjoys.”
“Yes.”
“I preferred one category.”
“Most people do.”
Claire sat with that.
Marlene came to the birthday party.
Thirty minutes.
She arrived alone carrying a pan of lemon squares.
No gift.
Lily recognized her immediately.
“Marlene!”
Marlene stopped in the doorway.
Her face changed.
Claire watched carefully.
She did not rush toward Lily.
She did not open her arms.
She let Lily decide the distance.
Lily walked over.
“You brought corners?”
Marlene laughed.
“I brought an entire pan. Statistically, several corners.”
Lily took her hand and led her toward the table.
Claire felt a complicated ache.
Not danger.
Not peace either.
Something between.
Richard came in from the backyard carrying paper plates.
He saw Marlene.
Their eyes met.
He did not smile at Claire as if she had granted him a favor.
Good.
The party was small.
Two children from preschool.
Claire’s friend Becca and her son.
Richard.
Marlene.
No extended family tribunal.
No test of loyalty disguised as a celebration.
May you like
Lily wore a purple tiara with plastic jewels.
Claire had worried about that.
