Chapter 13
Theo did not ask where Winifred went for two days.
When he finally did, we were fixing the race car.
One wheel still pulled left.
He noticed.
“Grandma gone?”
“Yes.”
“Because present?”
“Partly.”
He thought.
“Because fox?”
“Yes.”
“Because Mommy picture?”
“Yes.”
He stared at the wooden car.
“Is she bad?”
I paused.
Children deserve clarity without being forced into adult absolutes.
“She made bad choices that hurt you.”
“Can she be good?”
“Yes.”
“Then she comes back?”
“No.”
He looked confused.
Important moment.
“Why?”
“Because becoming better doesn’t mean you get every old place back.”
Theo frowned.
“Like broken car?”
I almost smiled.
“Sort of.”
We both looked at the race car.
I had repaired it.
But the water warped one side.
It would never be exactly the same.
Theo touched the hood.
“I still like it.”
“I know.”
He thought more.
“Can I like Grandma?”
My throat tightened.
“Yes.”
“Even if she gone?”
“Yes.”
“Can I be mad too?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
Children understand emotional complexity when adults stop demanding simple loyalty.
He pushed the car across the table.
It curved left.
Theo laughed.
“Funny.”
For a second I saw Sofia in him.
Not her face.
Her refusal to treat imperfection like failure.
I let the car roll again.
Maybe that was what Winifred never understood.
May you like
Loss does not make people strong by destroying attachment.
Sometimes strength is loving the damaged thing without pretending it was never damaged.
