Chapter 12
Cordelia wrote Beatrix a letter.
I read it first.
Necessary.
It said:
I am sorry I broke your crown.
Too small.
Then:
I am sorry I took Bunny and laughed when you were upset.
Better.
Then:
You did nothing wrong.
Good.
No explanation about politics.
No mention of Amelia.
No request for forgiveness.
I kept it.
Months later, Beatrix asked again:
“Coco gone forever?”
I said:
“I don’t know.”
“Letter?”
She had seen the envelope.
I read it aloud.
She listened.
Then asked:
“Coco fix crown?”
Interesting.
The old crown still existed.
Taped.
Crooked.
Frosting stain permanent.
I had kept it because Beatrix wanted it.
“Do you want her to?”
Beatrix thought.
“No.”
Then:
“Daddy fixed.”
My throat tightened.
Okay.
She did not ask to see Cordelia.
So she didn’t.
Adults often rush reconciliation because unfinished relationships make them uncomfortable.
I had learned better.
Months later, Cordelia sent no second letter.
May you like
Good.
Respect can look like silence.
