Chapter 17 - piper thought uncertainty meant selene had won
For nearly two months, Piper asked the same question in different forms.
“What if the medicine was just missing?”
“What if I was sleepy because I didn’t sleep?”
“What if Anna counted wrong?”
“What if Selene really thought I needed that program?”
At first Tristan answered every question.
Carefully.
Patiently.
Then one night he realized they were no longer questions.
They were loops.
Piper was trying to achieve perfect certainty because Selene had taught her anything less made her unreliable.
Her therapist, Dr. Nora Feld, explained it differently.
“Piper spent a long time being told that if she could not prove something perfectly, adults could redefine it.”
Tristan sat beside Piper.
“So now she wants every memory notarized.”
Piper glared.
“I know what notarized means.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Dad.”
Nora smiled.
Then she placed three columns on a page.
KNOWN.
LIKELY.
UNKNOWN.
Piper frowned.
“This looks like school.”
“Unfortunately.”
Nora started with the wall.
KNOWN:
Anna was inside.
The door was locked from outside.
Selene knew.
Piper heard knocking.
Then medication.
KNOWN:
Piper experienced unusual drowsiness.
Anna documented four concerning episodes.
Selene’s prescription count did not align with expected use.
Selene was simultaneously describing Piper as unstable and pursuing additional behavioral treatment.
LIKELY:
Selene caused or contributed to at least some of Piper’s symptoms.
UNKNOWN:
Exact dose.
Exact administration method.
Whether every episode had the same cause.
Piper stared.
“I don’t like unknown.”
Nora nodded.
“Most people don’t.”
“Then how do you know what’s real?”
“You build the strongest picture available without filling blanks just because blanks scare you.”
Piper looked toward Tristan.
“Dad filled blanks.”
He felt that.
“Yes.”
Selene says Anna quit.
Blank filled.
Selene says Piper is going through a phase.
Blank filled.
Selene says the house is hurting everyone.
Blank filled.
Convenience had been certainty’s cheaper cousin.
Tristan said:
“I did.”
Piper’s eyes narrowed.
“So how do I know you’re not doing it now?”
He did not answer immediately.
Good.
That itself had changed.
“You don’t know just because I’m your father.”
She looked surprised.
“You can ask what I’m basing something on.”
“You can disagree.”
“You can ask somebody else.”
Her eyes filled.
“Like Anna?”
“Yes.”
“Doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Teacher?”
“Yes.”
“Not Selene.”
Tristan paused.
“Not now.”
Selene had no role in Piper’s life.
Nora added:
“And even someday, if you ever choose to hear something Selene says, you would not have to accept it because she says it confidently.”
Piper became quiet.
Confidence.
Selene had always had too much.
That evening Tristan found Piper in the reading nook.
Metal door open.
She knocked three times against it.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
Then waited.
Nothing answered.
Tristan stood outside.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking.”
“For Anna?”
Piper rolled her eyes.
“She’s not in there.”
“Good.”
Piper looked at the door.
“Three knocks were easy.”
Tristan understood.
Someone knocks.
You knock back.
Person exists.
Evidence immediate.
“Most things aren’t like that.”
“No.”
Piper sounded angry about reality itself.
Fair.
Tristan sat on the beanbag.
“Want to know something?”
“What?”
“I used to think being a good father meant having answers quickly.”
Piper looked at him.
“I think that helped Selene.”
“How?”
“Because she always had answers before I had questions.”
That landed.
Selene never said:
I’m not sure why Piper is sleepy.
She said:
Behavioral phase.
Never:
I don’t know why Anna left.
She said:
Too attached.
Never:
Maybe Piper is hearing something real.
She said:
Imagining things again.
Certainty made convenience easy.
Piper curled her legs beneath herself.
“So what do you do now?”
Tristan smiled sadly.
“Get comfortable being annoying.”
“You already were.”
“Excellent.”
She almost smiled.
Then:
“If I say something weird, you won’t think I’m crazy?”
“No.”
“Even if I’m wrong?”
Tristan thought.
“If you tell me you heard something and we discover it was a pipe, that means you heard a pipe.”
“That is not the same as you lying.”
Piper stared.
“What if I say someone moved my book and I moved it?”
“Then we figure that out.”
“You won’t say Selene was right?”
“No.”
Tristan leaned forward.
“Being wrong about one thing does not make you unreliable about everything.”
That sentence loosened something.
Piper began crying.
Quietly.
Then asked:
“Was Selene wrong about everything?”
Tristan almost said yes.
Stopped.
“She was wrong to turn ordinary uncertainty into a story that made you smaller.”
That was the answer.
Not purity.
Not perfect memory.
Something more useful.
Piper could be a normal child.
Wrong sometimes.
Confused sometimes.
Certain sometimes.
May you like
And still deserve to be heard every single time.
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