Chapter 15
Sophie saw Preston again six months later.
Her request surprised me.
She had seen him across a charity garden event and asked:
“That bad man?”
Children simplify.
“Yes.”
“Still bad?”
Harder.
“He’s trying to make better choices.”
She thought.
“Can I tell him he pushed me?”
“You can.”
Public space.
Evelyn beside her.
Preston stayed several feet away until Sophie approached.
She looked up.
“You pushed me.”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
“You called thief.”
“Yes.”
“I not.”
“No.”
Then Sophie delivered judgment.
“That was mean.”
“Yes.”
Preston crouched, but not too close.
“I’m sorry.”
She stared.
Then asked:
“Why?”
He could have said secret.
Photograph.
Adult problem.
Instead:
“I was scared you had something I didn’t want people to see, and I blamed you instead of fixing my own problem.”
Good.
Sophie understood maybe twenty percent.
Enough.
“You do again?”
“No.”
She nodded.
Then ran back to Evelyn.
Meeting finished.
Preston did not ask for hug.
Good.
On the drive home Sophie said:
“He still bad?”
Evelyn answered:
“People aren’t one word.”
Sophie hated that answer.
Four-year-olds prefer categories.
May you like
So do Mafia families.
Maybe that was why we produced so many disasters.
