Chapter 17 - Toby’s Question
Toby asked me one night:
“Is Aunt Natalie bad?”
I stopped loading dishwasher.
Clara looked over.
“Why?”
“Ben at school says people who go to jail are bad.”
Natalie had not been sentenced yet, but news had spread.
Her company name appeared in local business coverage.
Family gossip did the rest.
I sat beside him.
“She did bad things.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Children have no patience for adult nuance.
“I don’t think people are only one thing.”
“Did she hurt Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Did she take your money?”
“Yes.”
“Did Grandma help?”
“With hurting Mom, yes. With company money, we don’t have evidence she knew.”
He frowned.
“Why do you always say evidence?”
Clara smiled.
“Because Dad is Dad.”
I said:
“Because being angry doesn’t make every bad thing true.”
Toby thought.
“So Aunt Natalie can be mean without doing every mean thing.”
“Exactly.”
“Can I hate her?”
“You can feel whatever you feel.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
Clara looked at me.
I continued:
“Sometimes.”
Toby nodded.
“Okay.”
Then:
“Can she come to my birthday?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He went back to toy cars.
Boundaries can be simple.
Adults complicate them because guilt requires arguments.
Lucy grew.
Clara recovered.
The bruising faded long before fear did.
She still checked locks twice.
Still hated hearing my mother’s ringtone even though Mom no longer called directly.
Still paused before eating leftovers.
That one hurt.
One afternoon I found Clara throwing away perfectly good pasta.
“What?”
She stared.
“I can’t.”
I understood.
We ordered pizza.
Months later, leftovers became food again.
May you like
No speech.
Just time.
