Chapter 11
Elspeth asked to see Caspian.
I said no.
Three months later, again.
No.
Six months.
Still no.
She wrote letters.
I stored them.
Did not give them to him.
Adults do not earn access by producing enough apologies.
Then Caspian asked about her himself.
“Is Aunt Elspeth dead?”
“No.”
“Jail?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“At her house.”
“Why no see?”
I thought.
“Because she made dangerous choices and I don’t trust her around you.”
He accepted that.
Then:
“Does she love me?”
Harder.
“Probably.”
He frowned.
“Then why?”
I almost laughed sadly.
The question families spend generations avoiding.
“Loving someone doesn’t automatically make every choice safe.”
He thought about that.
Then:
“Can love be stupid?”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
Apparently that was understandable.
A year after the conservatory, he asked to hear one of Elspeth’s letters.
I read it aloud.
She apologized for frightening him.
For insulting his mother.
For bringing unsafe food toward him.
No excuses.
Good.
Caspian listened.
Then said:
“I don’t want see.”
“Okay.”
No pressure.
He returned to his toys.
May you like
Elspeth did not receive a response.
Consequences are not revenge just because the person waiting dislikes them.
