Chapter 16
Years after the fire, I finally asked Mirella something I had avoided.
“Were you afraid you were going to die?”
She became quiet.
We stood in the rebuilt west corridor.
Blythe was at school.
No audience.
“Yes.”
Simple.
“What did you think?”
She looked toward the art room.
“That I had to get Blythe out.”
“And after?”
“I was angry.”
“At Honora?”
“At everyone.”
Including me.
I nodded.
“Good.”
She seemed surprised.
“You were angry with me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I had tried to tell you smaller things before.”
There.
Not just after the fire.
Honora dismissing staff.
Changing schedules.
Taking Blythe’s belongings without asking.
Mirella had spoken indirectly several times.
I missed it.
“She was your fiancée.”
Mirella continued.
“You were happy.”
“And you didn’t want to interfere.”
“Yes.”
I looked down.
“Would you do it differently now?”
She smiled faintly.
“I’d be louder.”
Good.
“So would I.”
That mattered.
Not because we could repair history.
May you like
Because learning should change behavior.
Otherwise remorse is decoration.
