Chapter 16
At eight, Elliot finally asked the question I knew would come.
“Did Aunt Agatha want me gone?”
We sat beneath the same garden shade where I once held him dehydrated.
I answered carefully.
“She thought living somewhere quieter would be better for you.”
“Did she want me gone?”
Children detect evasions.
“Yes.”
His face changed.
“Why?”
“Because she thought I spent too much time being your dad and not enough time being what she expected a boss to be.”
He stared.
“That dumb.”
I laughed.
“Yes.”
Then:
“Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Spend too much time.”
“No.”
Easy.
He leaned back.
“Good.”
Then he asked:
“Uncle Julian wanted your job?”
“Not exactly.”
Close enough to require nuance.
“He wanted more power and thought if you were away, I’d depend on him more.”
Elliot considered.
“Did it work?”
“No.”
“Because you punched him?”
I almost choked.
“No.”
“Because I learned why.”
He looked disappointed.
Children prefer punches as causal explanation.
Adults sometimes too.
Truth was slower.
Trust changed.
Roles changed.
Systems changed.
May you like
That was what prevented recurrence.
Not one dramatic afternoon.
