Chapter 4
The storage box contained twelve items.
Twelve.
In less than a year.
A blanket.
A toy truck.
Two birthday cards.
The fox.
The airplane.
My mother’s music box.
A photograph of Theo with his mother.
That one stopped me.
I picked it up carefully.
“Why was this here?”
Nobody answered.
I looked at Winifred.
Her face had hardened.
Theo kept that photograph beneath his pillow.
Or he had.
“What did he do?”
She stared.
“What did my son do that cost him a picture of his dead mother?”
Silence.
My voice dropped.
“Answer.”
“He wouldn’t stop asking for her.”
The room disappeared around me.
For a moment I heard nothing.
Then Winifred continued as if she had said something reasonable.
“He was becoming obsessive.”
“He misses his mother.”
“He needs to understand she is gone.”
“He is three.”
“You keep saying that like childhood excuses weakness.”
I stepped closer.
“No.”
I held up the photograph.
“I keep saying it because you keep treating a toddler like a soldier who disappointed you.”
Her expression tightened.
Anthony looked away.
I turned toward the others.
“Who saw her take this?”
Two hands.
Two grown adults.
Neither stopped her.
I stared.
“Why?”
One aunt whispered:
“She said you approved.”
There it was again.
I almost laughed.
Winifred had built an entire private government out of my reputation.
My family did not ask me because asking me would imply doubting her.
Theo did not ask me because she told him I agreed.
The adults complied because they feared insulting a matriarch.
Perfect.
I looked at Winifred.
“You didn’t just teach loss.”
She stared.
“You taught him that I was choosing it for him.”
Her face changed.
That landed.
Then I found something beneath the photograph.
A handwritten list.
Twelve items.
Dates.
Reasons.
Beside the photograph:
CRYING FOR MOTHER — 3 DAYS.
I looked at the music box.
REFUSED KISS — 1 WEEK.
The fox.
ASKED FOR FATHER DURING DINNER — 2 DAYS.
My blood went cold.
May you like
Winifred had not been collecting toys.
She had built a punishment ledger for affection.
