Chương 11
“He does.”
“Why?”
“His feet.”
Mila leaned closer to inspect them.
Eleanor remained standing.
Dr. Shah opened the door to a small activity room. Inside were a circular table, eight plastic chairs, shelves of art supplies, and windows looking onto a fenced courtyard.
Mara held the door.
Mila noticed and entered.
They arranged themselves awkwardly. Adrian sat beside Mila. Eleanor chose the chair across from them. Camille remained near Jasper on the floor. Mara took the chair closest to the door. Dr. Shah sat slightly apart.
No one spoke at first.
A radiator clicked three times.
Eleanor looked at Mila. “I am glad to see you.”
Mila moved the rabbit’s pink ribbon between her fingers.
Eleanor continued, “I understand you were frightened at the party.”
Adrian felt his jaw tighten.
Dr. Shah glanced at him, not Eleanor.
Mila gave a small nod.
“I did not want to frighten you,” Eleanor said. “I thought the video would be meaningful for our family.”
Mila looked at Jasper.
“I believed you would feel proud to speak about your mother.”
Adrian inhaled through his nose.
Eleanor’s eyes shifted toward him. “I am trying to explain.”
“You’re explaining yourself,” he said.
“Adrian,” Dr. Shah warned quietly.
He stopped.
Mila’s shoulders had risen.
Eleanor folded her hands on the table.
“What should I say?” she asked Dr. Shah.
The question sounded irritated, and because of that, honest.
“Speak to Mila,” Dr. Shah said. “Not to me.”
Eleanor looked again at her granddaughter.
“I should have stopped when you asked.”
Mila’s fingers became still.
“I should have returned your watch,” Eleanor continued. “I should not have asked you to say words about your mother that were not your words.”
Camille lowered her head.
Eleanor swallowed.
“I was wrong.”
The last sentence came out softer.
Mila looked at her briefly.
“Are you mad?” she asked.
“No.”
“You looked mad when Daddy came.”
“I was.”
“At me?”
Eleanor opened her mouth and paused. Adrian saw the practiced answer arrive, then disappear.
“I was embarrassed,” she said. “I was angry that everyone was watching. I blamed your father because that was easier than admitting I had caused the problem.”
Mila leaned against Adrian’s arm.
“Were you mad I ran?”
“Yes.”
Adrian’s hand moved on the table.
Dr. Shah touched one finger to her own wrist, a silent reminder to remain still.
Eleanor continued before Adrian could speak.
“I was mad because I was frightened. That does not mean you did anything wrong.”
Mila considered this.
“Camille stood at the door.”
Every face turned slightly toward Camille.
Camille sat straighter on the floor.
“I did,” she said. “I thought if you stayed for one minute, everything would be easier.”
“It wasn’t.”
“No.”
“You cried outside.”
Camille’s cheeks colored.
“I did.”
“I don’t like when grown-ups cry sorry.”
Camille pressed her lips together. “Okay.”
“It makes me have to say it’s okay.”
“I understand.”
“No, you say that.”
Camille blinked.
Mila rubbed the rabbit’s ear.
“Grown-ups say ‘I understand’ when they want to talk again.”
Mara looked down, hiding something that might have been a smile.
Camille nodded. “You’re right.”
“Don’t cry.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“Okay.”
Silence settled again.
Eleanor’s gaze moved to the rabbit.
“That ribbon is coming loose.”
Mila pulled the toy closer.
Eleanor looked away.
Adrian noticed the effort. It was small, almost ridiculous, and perhaps the first useful thing Eleanor had done: she saw something she believed should be fixed and did not reach for it.
Dr. Shah asked Mila whether she wanted to show Eleanor the paintings in the hallway.
“Can Daddy come?”
“Yes.”
“Camille?”
“Yes.”
“Mara?”
“If Mara wants to.”
Everyone looked at Eleanor last.
Mila did not include her.
Eleanor’s face remained composed, but one hand closed around the other.
“That’s enough for today,” Adrian said.
Mila looked up. “I didn’t say done.”
He froze.
It was not a loud correction.
He had done exactly what Lydia described. He had seen discomfort and closed the door before anyone asked him to.
“Sorry,” he said. “You decide.”
Mila looked toward Eleanor.
“You can come,” she said. “But don’t hold my hand.”
“I won’t.”
They walked into the hallway.
Mila moved from painting to painting, explaining which ones she believed had been made by older children. Her system depended entirely on whether the sun had straight or crooked rays. Jasper followed until he became tired and lay beneath the papier-mâché whale.
At a painting of a green house, Eleanor began to say, “The perspective is—”
She stopped.
Mila looked at her.
“What?”
“I was going to correct the roof.”
“It’s not your roof.”
“No.”
They continued.
The meeting ended without an embrace.
At the exit, Eleanor stood near the door but did not block it. Mara opened it for Mila.
Outside, rain had begun. Adrian lifted his daughter into the truck, though she was capable of climbing herself. Halfway into the seat, Mila wriggled.
“I can do it.”
He set her down.
She climbed in, buckled the belt, and placed the rabbit on her lap.
On the drive home she said, “Nana said wrong.”
“She did.”
“Did she mean it?”
“I think she meant some of it.”
“Which some?”
“I don’t know.”
Mila watched rain move across the window.
“Dr. Shah says not knowing is still an answer.”
“She says that too much.”
“She says you don’t like it.”
“Also too much.”
Mila smiled.
The next morning, Warren Pike informed Adrian that the trust committee had approved six months of therapy expenses.
There was no apology for the delay.
Adrian accepted the reimbursement and hated himself for feeling relieved.
At work, Luis brought him a new contract lead from a property manager whose sister had seen the longer guest account online.
“She says she likes men who leave parties early,” Luis said.
“That is not a business qualification.”
May you like
“It is today.”
The project was smaller than Elm Street but enough to extend payroll. Adrian spent two evenings preparing a careful estimate, then nearly lost the job by refusing a rushed completion date. Luis persuaded him to call back.
