Chapter 14
On what would have been Vivian’s thirty-ninth birthday, Caspian and I made dinner together.
Badly.
He chopped nothing.
I trusted him with napkins.
Even that became chaotic.
We talked about his mother.
Not death first.
Life.
“She liked sailboats?”
“No.”
“Dogs?”
“Yes.”
“Big dogs?”
“Every dog.”
“Did she like cake?”
I paused.
He noticed.
Then I answered.
“Some kinds.”
“Safe kinds?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
No fear.
Just information.
Then:
“Did Mommy say no to Aunt Elspeth?”
“Yes.”
“Did Aunt Elspeth listen?”
“No.”
Caspian became serious.
“She should.”
“Yes.”
There.
The lesson without making allergy the center.
No means no around bodies.
Food.
Touch.
Risk.
May you like
Anything.
A family culture that respected refusal would have saved more than one relationship.
