Chapter 14 - Molly Finally Said She Had Been Angry Too
Until then, Molly had mostly been frightened.
Or confused.
Or eager for everyone to stop being upset.
Her anger arrived later.
Six weeks after the hospital visit.
Family counseling.
The therapist asked:
“What do you wish Mom understood that you haven’t said yet?”
Molly shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
They waited.
Then:
“I hated the stairs.”
Rebecca’s eyes filled.
Molly saw.
Immediately her body shifted as though she might stop.
Rebecca said:
“Keep going.”
The child hesitated.
“I hated when you said one more time.”
Rebecca nodded.
“I hated the backpack.”
Another nod.
“I hated when you looked at my plate.”
Rebecca’s breathing shook.
She stayed silent.
Molly’s voice grew stronger.
“And I hated the cardigan sometimes.”
Rebecca looked surprised.
“But you said you like it.”
“I do.”
Molly’s face tightened.
“I hate that you bought it because you thought I looked better covered.”
There.
The entire conflict compressed into one child-sized contradiction.
I like the sweater.
I hate why you chose it for me.
Rebecca started crying silently.
Molly looked toward the therapist.
“Do I have to stop?”
“No.”
Rebecca answered too.
“No.”
Molly looked back at her mother.
“I was mad at you at the hospital.”
Rebecca nodded.
“I know.”
“No, because when the lady asked if I wanted you to leave the room, I said yes.”
“I know.”
“I thought you’d be really sad.”
“I was.”
Molly’s face fell.
Rebecca corrected herself quickly but carefully.
“I was sad because I realized you needed a room without me to tell the truth.”
Molly listened.
“That sadness belongs to me.”
Another familiar phrase.
The child relaxed slightly.
Then she asked the question Rebecca feared most.
“Did you think I was ugly?”
Rebecca’s face crumpled.
“No.”
Molly waited.
Rebecca understood she needed more than denial.
“I thought the world might treat you badly because your body was getting bigger.”
Molly looked down.
“And instead of trusting you and helping you if that happened, I tried to change you before it could.”
Molly nodded slowly.
“That felt like you thought something was wrong with me.”
“I know.”
“Do you now?”
Rebecca answered without hesitation.
“No.”
“Even if I stay chubby?”
Rebecca swallowed.
“Yes.”
Molly frowned.
Rebecca almost laughed through tears.
“I mean yes, even if your body stays exactly however it grows, nothing is wrong with you because of that.”
Better.
Molly considered.
Then looked at Nolan.
“You too?”
“Absolutely.”
The therapist asked Molly what she wanted from her mother now.
Molly thought for a long time.
“No more secret health things.”
Rebecca nodded.
“No comments about my food unless a doctor says something is actually wrong.”
Another nod.
“And don’t buy clothes because they hide me.”
Rebecca breathed out.
“Okay.”
Molly added:
“But I want to keep the blue cardigan.”
Everyone laughed.
Even Rebecca.
That mattered.
The cardigan did not need to be burned to prove a lesson.
The backpack did not need to disappear.
The staircase did not need to become forbidden.
The family was not going to build recovery by turning every object into a monument to what happened.
May you like
They would let ordinary things become ordinary again.
That was the opposite of what fear had done.
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