Chapter 17
Healing came in strange moments.
Oliver eating two breakfasts because he no longer feared food running out.
Hannah calling Elise “Mom” by accident, then crying for an hour.
Elise planting rosemary by the kitchen because she remembered my brother loved the smell.
Me walking past the east hallway without losing my breath.
Then losing it the next day.
Recovery did not respect calendars.
Oliver started school with a support plan.
He hated being watched.
He hated being pitied.
He loved science.
His teacher told me he took apart a classroom clock to “understand time better.”
I apologized.
Then bought the class a new clock.
At night, he asked questions.
“Was Victoria ever nice?”
“Yes.”
“Was Grandfather ever nice?”
“Yes.”
“Does that make them less bad?”
“No.”
He thought about that.
“People are hard.”
“Yes.”
“Dogs are easier.”
“We don’t have a dog.”
He looked at me.
“We could.”
We adopted a quiet rescue dog named Max.
Oliver chose him because Max refused to enter closed rooms.
“Same,” Oliver said.
Fair.
Max slept across Oliver’s doorway.
Not inside.
Across.
Guarding the open space.
Hannah said Max understood architecture better than all of us.
She was right.
One evening, Oliver asked, “Do you still love Victoria?”
I answered honestly.
“I love the person I thought she was.”
“And the real one?”
“I am learning to let her go.”
May you like
He nodded.
“Me too.”
