Chapter 11
Oscar’s cast came off six weeks later.
He hated physical therapy.
Declared every exercise “stupid.”
I agreed privately.
Still made him do it.
One day he asked:
“Did Uncle Duncan push me because of Uncle Nathan?”
Hard question.
“Partly.”
“Because red box?”
“Yes.”
“Did I do bad seeing it?”
“No.”
“What if I didn’t follow?”
There it was.
Counterfactual guilt.
Adults do that too.
I crouched.
“You were six.”
“I am six.”
Fair.
“You were curious.”
He frowned.
“Curious bad?”
“Sometimes dangerous.”
Then:
“Not deserving punishment.”
That mattered.
Oscar thought.
“Will Uncle Duncan come back?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
“Not here.”
He nodded.
Then:
“Aunt Claudia?”
“Maybe later.”
He looked uncertain.
“I like her.”
“I know.”
“She threw crutches.”
“Yes.”
“Bad.”
“Yes.”
Children can hold contradiction if adults let them.
Love does not erase action.
Action does not always erase love.
Good.
Nathan visited during therapy once.
Oscar challenged him to crutch racing.
Nathan lost deliberately.
Oscar noticed.
May you like
“Cheater.”
Brotherhood apparently inherited sarcasm.
