Chapter 12 - Mabel Asked the Hardest Question
The evidence satisfied adults.
Mabel wanted something simpler.
“Why did she hate Mommy?”
Luciano sat beside her in the library.
For days, he had carefully avoided making Odessa into a monster in front of Mabel. Children deserve truth, but not every adult pathology.
Still, this question belonged to her.
“I don’t think she hated your mom at first.”
Mabel frowned.
“Then why lie?”
“Because your mom noticed things.”
“Like me?”
Luciano almost smiled.
“Exactly like you.”
That seemed to matter.
He explained that Evelyn noticed when people said different things to different relatives. She asked direct questions. She compared stories. She did not like being told who she should distrust.
Mabel looked at her hands.
“And Odessa didn’t like that?”
“No.”
“Because then people talked?”
“Yes.”
Mabel thought about it.
“She wanted everyone mad at everyone.”
Luciano felt a painful pride.
“That’s close.”
“Why?”
“Because when people are mad at each other, they sometimes stop noticing who made them mad.”
Mabel considered that.
Then her face changed.
“Is that why Mommy went away?”
Luciano took a slow breath.
“Partly. And because some of us didn’t listen to her well enough.”
She looked directly at him.
“You?”
Children rarely let adults hide behind passive grammar.
Luciano nodded.
“Me too.”
“Did you think Mommy stole?”
“I wasn’t sure.”
“That means yes a little.”
He almost laughed despite the ache in his chest.
“Yes. A little.”
Mabel’s eyes filled.
“You should’ve believed her.”
“I know.”
That was all he could say.
No defense.
No explanation.
Then Mabel asked the hardest question.
“If Mommy knew Odessa lied, why didn’t she come back?”
Luciano looked down.
Evelyn had been proud.
Hurt.
Ill later.
But the deeper answer was family failure.
“She tried to come back in smaller ways.”
“How?”
“Letters. Calls. Asking about us.”
“Did Odessa stop them?”
“Some.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Luciano was quiet.
“Because after enough people doubt you, sometimes going back feels harder than staying away.”
Mabel leaned against him.
After a moment she whispered:
“I would’ve believed her.”
Luciano put an arm around her.
“I know.”
That was the tragedy.
The child Odessa tried to mark as “just like her mother” was, in the truest sense, exactly like Evelyn.
Observant.
Quiet.
Hard to fool once she looked closely.
May you like
And Odessa had feared that resemblance more than she ever admitted.
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