Chapter 21
Victoria’s contact with Noah remained irregular.
A supervised meeting at nine.
Another at eleven.
None at twelve.
One letter at thirteen.
Rocco eventually understood inconsistency was not automatically failure.
The meetings happened when Noah wanted information.
Not because a relationship needed momentum.
At fourteen, Noah asked Victoria about his biological mother.
That surprised everyone.
Rocco had always spoken about Elena openly.
Photographs.
Stories.
Her pregnancy.
Her illness after Noah’s birth.
Her death.
Victoria had entered his life later.
Still, Noah wanted to know something Rocco could not answer.
“Did you ever feel jealous of her?”
Victoria stared.
They sat in the same neutral center, though Noah no longer needed toys on the shelves.
“Yes.”
“Dead person?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your father loved her.”
“He loved you.”
“Yes.”
“Different time.”
“I knew that logically.”
Noah raised an eyebrow.
“Therapist word.”
Victoria smiled faintly.
“Yes.”
Then she told the harder truth.
Elena’s photographs had made Victoria feel temporary.
Household traditions built before she arrived made her feel like a visitor.
Maria knew stories Victoria did not.
Noah’s nursery had been chosen by another woman.
Instead of tolerating that grief and history existed before her, Victoria started wanting a role nobody could revoke.
Wife.
Adoptive mother.
Legal authority.
“I thought permanence would make me safe.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
“You didn’t get it.”
“That is also true.”
Noah looked at her.
“Would adoption make you mom?”
“Legally, yes.”
“Actually?”
Victoria considered.
“It could have recognized a relationship if the relationship was healthy.”
“Was ours?”
“Parts were.”
The answer mattered.
Victoria had read to him.
Gone to audiology appointments.
Learned how to insert batteries.
Built blanket forts.
Held him when he had fever.
Then destroyed the device beside his ear because he heard the wrong conversation.
Noah had struggled for years with the contradiction.
“So good parts real?”
“Yes.”
“Bad real?”
“Yes.”
“Not fake before?”
“No.”
Noah looked toward the glass panel.
Rocco sat outside, pretending not to look.
“You really loved Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Then why Marcus?”
“Because love did not cure my fear.”
Noah became quiet.
At fourteen, he understood something he could not at four.
Love was not a safety certification.
People could love badly.
Fear badly.
Plan badly.
Regret accurately afterward.
He asked:
“Do you want another family?”
Victoria looked surprised.
“I have friends. Work. People I love.”
“Kids?”
“No.”
“Because me?”
“No.”
That answer relieved him.
He had not known he carried the possibility that his existence had ruined her future.
Victoria continued:
“I decided not to become a parent. That decision belongs to my life, not to something you did.”
Noah nodded.
At the end, she asked no question.
Noah noticed.
“You can ask one.”
Victoria smiled.
“How is school?”
“Boring.”
“That’s your one?”
“You gave permission after I chose.”
Noah laughed.
The meeting ended.
On the drive home, Rocco asked:
“Learn anything?”
Noah looked out the window.
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“She was real.”
May you like
Rocco understood.
Noah did not need Victoria converted into a monster to remain safe from what she had done.
