Chương 10
“I don’t know which specific screw it was,” Ethan said.
Maya looked disappointed.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“You’re allowed to be annoyed.”
“I’m not annoyed.”
“You look annoyed.”
“That’s my face.”
Leah looked up from the form.
“She says that too.”
Maya leaned back.
Ethan noticed how much easier she moved without the boots.
“Your ankles doing okay?”
“The doctor says one was sprained before.”
“And the other?”
“Fine.”
Leah’s pen stopped.
Ethan looked at her.
She already knew what he knew.
Maya had never needed two boots.
The original urgent-care record had recommended support for the right ankle after a reported fall. Grant had later told the school and another clinic that both ankles were injured. He had purchased a second boot independently.
A second boot made Maya slower.
It made the arrangement look medical.
It made questions easier to answer.
The information had been added to the investigation.
Maya kicked one cobalt-blue shoelace against the chair.
“Do I have to go to court?”
Ethan glanced at Leah.
She gave a small nod.
The possibility had been raised.
“I don’t know,” Ethan said.
“They said maybe.”
“Then maybe.”
“Grant’s lawyer says I lie.”
Leah looked sharply at her.
“Who told you that?”
“I heard Dana on the phone.”
Leah shut her eyes.
“Maya—”
“I wasn’t spying.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You were going to.”
“No. I was going to ask why you were listening.”
“That means spying.”
Ethan watched them.
Leah rubbed her forehead.
“We’re going to discuss this later.”
Maya crossed her arms.
There it was.
Ordinary family friction.
Ethan felt an absurd flicker of relief.
Not because Maya should never be upset.
Because safe adults were allowed to be mildly irritated.
Children were allowed to be difficult.
Everything did not have to mean danger.
He stood.
“I should get back.”
Maya looked at him.
“Will you be there if I go to court?”
“I might be called as a witness.”
“So yes?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s annoying.”
“I agree.”
As he turned away, she called, “Dr. Cole?”
He looked back.
“Thank you for cutting it.”
He nodded.
“You’re welcome.”
She was already looking down at her shoes.
The criminal case did not go directly to trial.
Grant’s attorney filed motions challenging parts of the evidence and seeking limits on certain testimony. The prosecutor adjusted the charges after reviewing medical findings and intent requirements.
Leah hated every delay.
Dana reminded her repeatedly that courts did not move at the speed of fear.
“Easy for you to say.”
“No,” Dana said. “It is not.”
Leah immediately apologized.
Dana accepted without pretending not to be irritated.
Grant remained under strict no-contact conditions.
He complied.
Almost.
Two months after the hospital incident, Maya received a birthday card with no return address.
It contained twenty dollars and a drawing of a burned pancake.
No signature.
Leah stared at it.
Maya stared too.
“Dad drew pancakes like that.”
Leah called Dana.
Dana called the investigator.
The card was collected.
Grant denied sending it.
The postmark came from a neighboring town.
No usable fingerprints.
The twenty-dollar bill proved nothing.
The drawing proved little.
But the card changed Maya for three days.
She became quieter.
She checked the mailbox after school.
She asked whether sending a card counted as talking.
She asked whether Grant would get in trouble.
Then she asked whether it was her fault if he did.
Leah finally lost patience.
They were in the kitchen.
Maya had asked the question four times.
“No,” Leah said too sharply. “Nothing he does is your fault.”
Maya flinched.
Leah put down the dish towel.
“Sorry.”
“You yelled.”
“I did.”
“You said you wouldn’t.”
“I said I would try not to.”
“You yelled.”
“Yes.”
Maya backed toward the hallway.
Leah wanted to follow.
She did not.
“I’m going to stay here.”
Maya watched her.
“Why?”
“Because you look like you want space.”
“What if I go in my room?”
“That’s okay.”
“What if I lock it?”
“There’s no lock.”
Maya looked startled.
Then suspicious.
“You took it off?”
“No. The apartment came that way.”
“Oh.”
A pause.
“Can we get one?”
Leah’s first instinct was no.
Safety.
Fire.
Rules.
Then she heard the deeper question.
Can I have a place you cannot enter whenever you want?
“We can get a privacy lock that can be opened in an emergency.”
Maya narrowed her eyes.
“That sounds fake.”
“It’s real.”
“Can I pick it?”
“Yes.”
“Not purple.”
“Never purple.”
The following weekend they installed it together.
Leah put the latch upside down on the first attempt.
Maya stared at it.
“My mom would say your shelves are crooked.”
Leah sat back on the floor.
For half a second neither moved.
Then Leah laughed.
Maya laughed too.
The laughter turned into something else.
Maya covered her face.
Leah stayed where she was.
After a minute Maya crawled into her lap.
It was the first time she had initiated a hug.
Leah held her carefully.
Maya cried against her sweatshirt and said, “I miss him too.”
Leah knew who she meant.
Not Allison.
Grant.
Leah rested her chin on Maya’s hair.
“I know.”
“I hate him.”
“I know.”
“I want his pancakes.”
“I know.”
“He put screws in my boot.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to think.”
“You don’t have to know.”
“What do you think?”
Leah closed her eyes.
“I think he hurt you.”
“That’s not all.”
“No.”
“What else?”
“I think he loved you.”
Maya pulled back.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“No.”
“Then why say it?”
“Because both things can be true, and one doesn’t cancel the other.”
Maya wiped her face with her sleeve.
“That’s stupid.”
“It is.”
“People should be one thing.”
“Would be easier.”
Maya looked at the upside-down latch.
“You put it on wrong.”
“I did.”
“Mom would make you redo it.”
“Your mother enjoyed supervision.”
They fixed the lock.
By winter, the prosecutor offered Grant a plea agreement.
It required him to admit intentional conduct.
May you like
Grant refused.
His attorney advised him to reconsider.
