Chapter 14 - Chloe Asked Me Why I Had Waited
Six months after the terminal, Chloe and I were eating breakfast in her rented apartment.
She had moved out of the marital house during:
the divorce.
Her choice.
Not because Marcus reclaimed:
it.
Because every room contained:
memory.
She wanted:
neutral walls.
One-bedroom apartment.
Third floor.
Radiator too loud.
Kitchen too small.
She loved it.
That morning she asked:
“Can I say something awful?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you help me earlier?”
There.
I put down my coffee.
She continued.
“You saw Marcus was weird.”
“Yes.”
“You saw my arm.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about money.”
“Some.”
“You knew he tracked me.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes filled.
“Why did you keep acting like I had to be the one to decide whether it counted?”
That sentence hurt because it was:
precise.
I answered:
“Because I spent so much of your childhood questioning everything you said that I became afraid of doing it again.”
She stared.
“So you stopped asking?”
“Too often.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Yes.”
She almost smiled.
Then:
“I thought maybe if you weren’t worried, I shouldn’t be.”
There.
The consequence I had never imagined.
My calm had not communicated:
I respect you.
Sometimes it communicated:
this is normal.
I said:
“I’m sorry.”
Chloe wiped her eyes.
“I know.”
“No.”
“I need to say the whole thing.”
She waited.
“I should have asked whether you were afraid.”
“I should have offered specific help without making you defend why you needed it.”
“And when you told me Marcus got angry when you turned off tracking, I should have treated that as important.”
She looked at me.
Then:
“I also lied.”
“Yes.”
“A lot.”
“Yes.”
“Why aren’t you mad?”
“I am not confused about why scared people minimize danger.”
Old prosecutor voice.
She rolled her eyes.
“Mom.”
I smiled.
Then answered as:
mother.
“I wish you’d told me.”
“But I understand why you didn’t.”
She nodded.
Then:
“I didn’t want you to say I told you so.”
I almost laughed.
“I would never.”
She looked at me.
I corrected:
“I might have.”
“Exactly.”
Fair.
May you like
We both had work to do.
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