Chapter 9
Isabella saw Victoria again after six months.
Her choice.
She asked during breakfast:
“Where pearl aunt?”
That was Victoria.
“Home.”
“Can she come?”
I stopped.
“Do you want her to?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Her cake good.”
Of course.
Not forgiveness.
Cake.
We arranged afternoon tea in the garden.
No hidden corridors.
No party.
No audience.
Victoria arrived carrying nothing.
Smart.
Isabella stared at her.
Then at her neck.
“No collar.”
Victoria swallowed.
“No.”
Isabella asked:
“Were you pet?”
The question finally arrived directly.
Victoria crouched slowly.
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“I was a little girl.”
Isabella pointed to herself.
“Me too.”
“Yes.”
Three words.
That was the apology before the apology.
Victoria continued.
“I put something on you that someone once put on me.”
Isabella frowned.
“I didn’t like.”
“I know.”
“Dark bad.”
“I know.”
“You go away.”
Victoria closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Then:
“I’m sorry.”
Isabella looked at me.
I stayed silent.
Her choice.
She turned back.
“Cake?”
Victoria laughed through tears.
“I brought none.”
Isabella looked offended.
Relationship endangered for a new reason.
Good.
We found cake.
The visit lasted twenty minutes.
No hug.
No promise.
At the end Isabella said:
“Bye pearl aunt.”
Victoria stood.
Later she told me:
“She didn’t forgive me.”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she’s three. She ate cake.”
May you like
Victoria almost smiled.
Adults need to stop forcing children into vocabulary they do not require.
