Chapter 2 - Lucy Had Been Asking Me Not To Leave Her Alone
Looking backward is cruel because the signs become obvious only after you already missed them.
For nearly two months, Lucy had been asking the same question whenever I left for work.
“What time are you coming home?”
At first I thought it was sweet.
Then annoying.
Then worrying.
But never dangerous.
“Dinner time, kiddo.”
“Before dark?”
“Usually.”
“Promise?”
I would kiss her forehead and promise.
Bianca always laughed.
“She has you trained.”
I thought she meant Lucy was spoiled.
Now I remembered the way Lucy watched me walk out.
Not pouting.
Calculating.
She needed to know how many hours she would be alone with Bianca.
There were other signs.
Lucy stopped eating in the living room.
Stopped playing near the coffee table.
Became terrified whenever the dog’s bowl scraped against the hardwood.
Once she cried when I asked her to feed our old Labrador, Murphy.
Bianca said:
“She’s becoming dramatic lately.”
I believed her.
That word—dramatic—became a shortcut.
It allowed me to dismiss things without investigating them.
Then one Saturday Lucy asked if she could come to my hardware store with me.
“You hate the store.”
“I can help.”
“With what?”
“Anything.”
Bianca answered for her.
“She needs to stop clinging to you.”
Lucy went quiet.
I left her home.
That memory hurt more than the broken bookshelf.
Because my daughter had been trying to escape.
May you like
And I had called it clinginess.
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