Chapter 16
Elsie asked about Marina more as she grew.
At five, the questions became specific.
“What did Mommy laugh like?”
“Too loud.”
“Did Mommy paint good?”
“Yes.”
“Did Mommy get mad?”
“Very.”
“At you?”
“Often.”
Elise confirmed that enthusiastically.
Good.
I refused to turn Marina into a saint.
Children deserve real dead parents.
Not statues.
One evening Elsie asked:
“Why Mommy didn’t tell you Ellie alive?”
Hard.
I answered carefully.
“She was afraid telling me would make family problems worse.”
“Would it?”
“Maybe.”
“Were you scary?”
I thought.
“Sometimes.”
She nodded as though that explained everything.
Then:
“Are you scary now?”
“Yes.”
She laughed.
Fair.
I continued.
“Mommy should have told me anyway.”
Another truth.
Love does not make secrecy harmless.
Marina had reasons.
Nadine had reasons.
I had reasons for ignoring tensions because I wanted peace.
Reasons everywhere.
Consequences too.
Elsie leaned against me.
“I tell you stuff.”
“I hope so.”
“Even bad?”
“Especially bad.”
She thought.
“What if I break painting?”
I looked toward Marina’s landscape.
“Tell me first.”
She giggled.
May you like
Good.
Trust built through trivial promises before important ones.
