Chapter 9
Lily asked why Mommy’s hands hurt.
Sofia tried to soften the answer.
“Too much washing.”
Lily frowned.
“Why?”
Sofia looked at me.
I let her answer.
“Because Aunt Delia made Mommy do too much.”
Lily thought.
“Why didn’t Mommy say no?”
Sofia’s face changed.
There it was.
The question victims eventually ask themselves through someone else’s mouth.
She crouched beside Lily.
“I did say no sometimes.”
“What happened?”
“I got scared.”
Lily looked confused.
“You’re Mommy.”
As if mothers could not be afraid.
Sofia smiled sadly.
“Mommies get scared too.”
Lily looked at me.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“You scared?”
I almost said no.
Old instinct.
Wrong answer.
“Sometimes.”
Her eyes widened.
“Of Delia?”
“No.”
“Marcus?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
I thought.
“Not hearing you when you need me.”
That was true.
Sofia looked at me.
Lily seemed satisfied.
Then she touched Sofia’s hand gently.
“No more pans.”
Sofia laughed through tears.
“No more pans.”
Later, after Lily slept, Sofia showed me scars I had never noticed.
Small.
Nothing dramatic.
One burn near her wrist.
One scrape.
I wanted to ask why she hid them.
Did not.
Instead I said:
“I’m sorry I didn’t see.”
She looked at me.
“That’s different.”
“What?”
“Before, you asked why I didn’t tell you.”
I closed my eyes.
She was right.
Language matters.
One question places the burden on the person hurt.
The other places it on the person who failed to notice.
I took her hand carefully.
“I’m learning.”
May you like
“So am I.”
That was the first night she let me hold her without apologizing for crying.
