Chapter 7
Nina would not sleep.
I found her sitting upright in bed holding the cardigan Vera had grabbed.
I almost asked why she still had it.
Then stopped.
Not every object needs to be thrown away because an adult touched it badly.
I sat beside her.
“Grandma safe?”
“Yes.”
“You safe?”
“Yes.”
She stared.
“Vera safe?”
Interesting.
“Yes.”
“Harlan?”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
Children sometimes check everyone survives even after adults tried to hurt them.
Humbling.
Then she asked:
“Why two chairs?”
There it was.
I kept the answer small.
“Vera wanted me scared.”
“Why?”
“She was angry about something old.”
Nina frowned.
“At me?”
“No.”
Important.
“None of it started with you.”
She thought.
“Then why my chair?”
I hated the intelligence of that question.
“Because adults sometimes use the wrong person to fight the person they’re really angry with.”
She accepted that more easily than most adults would.
Then:
“She said see who Daddy saves first.”
“Yes.”
Nina looked at me.
“Who?”
I smiled faintly.
“Both.”
She shook her head.
“No. First.”
There it was.
The trap still trying to live inside her head.
I took her hand.
“There was no right first.”
“But you got me.”
“Yes.”
“Grandma after.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes filled.
“Does that mean you love me more?”
I understood what Vera had done.
She had not only tried to create a political interpretation.
She had introduced ranking into love.
I pulled Nina against me.
“No.”
She went still.
“I love you as my daughter.”
Pause.
“I love Grandma as my mother.”
“Different?”
“Yes.”
“Not race?”
I almost laughed.
“Not a race.”
That seemed to satisfy her.
Good.
Then she whispered:
“Vera made it race.”
Exactly.
Adults convert relationships into contests, then call the winner proof of something.
I kissed her forehead.
May you like
“We’re done racing.”
That became my first decision before any council met.
