Chapter 13 - The Pink Notebook Changed Purpose
The notebook stopped being evidence gradually.
That mattered.
For months, Mateo had treated every new drawing as potentially important.
He realized that could become another burden.
Lila was not a witness on permanent duty.
So one evening he gave her a new blue notebook.
“For important things?” she asked.
“For anything.”
She looked suspicious.
“What happens to pink?”
“Whatever you want.”
Lila thought.
Then decided the pink notebook would become Noah’s storybook.
The first new page showed Noah with enormous blue eyes and wings.
“He can’t fly,” Mateo said.
“He can in this.”
Fair.
The second showed Noah eating pizza.
“He has no teeth.”
“He will.”
By the fifth page, no secrets appeared.
Just imagination.
Mateo stored photocopies of relevant old pages with counsel and therapy records, then returned the original notebook entirely to Lila.
Her story belonged to her again.
Camille saw the change.
One evening she asked Mateo:
“Do you think she’ll ever trust me?”
He answered carefully.
“I don’t know.”
Camille nodded.
That answer hurt.
It was also honest.
He continued:
“You don’t get to work toward a guaranteed reward.”
“I know.”
“You work toward being safe whether or not she gives you what you want.”
Camille looked toward the nursery.
“That’s hard.”
“Yes.”
Then Mateo almost smiled.
“So is parenting.”
For the first time, Camille laughed.
Quietly.
May you like
Not because anything was fixed.
Because the family had stopped confusing repair with immediate restoration.
