Chapter 8 - THE APOLOGY I COULDN’T BUY
Lucy stayed with us for seven weeks.
Not permanently.
She made that clear immediately.
“I don’t want your guest room forever.”
“You can stay.”
“I know.”
The way she said it reminded me of someone.
My mother.
Independent to the point of stubbornness.
Once the trust issue was resolved, we found Lucy a small senior apartment fifteen minutes away.
She chose it herself.
One bedroom.
Balcony.
Bus stop nearby.
Community garden.
She cried when she received the key.
Then she immediately complained about the kitchen cabinets.
Definitely family.
Our relationship was harder.
I wanted to compensate.
New clothes.
Furniture.
Doctor appointments.
A new phone.
Everything.
Lucy accepted what she needed.
Refused what she didn’t.
One afternoon, I took her shopping.
I reached for an expensive coat.
She looked at the tag.
“No.”
“You need a coat.”
“Not one that costs somebody’s rent.”
“I can afford it.”
“That isn’t the point.”
I put it back.
At lunch, I finally said:
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at me.
“For what?”
“You know.”
“The bathtub?”
I nodded.
She stirred her tea.
“You were cruel.”
There it was.
Same honesty as Alejandro.
“I know.”
“You looked at me like I was dirty before you knew my name.”
My throat tightened.
“I know.”
“I have been looked at that way many times.”
“I’m sorry.”
She studied me.
Then said:
“Do you want me to tell you it’s okay?”
“No.”
That was the first honest answer I gave.
“No. I want you to know I’m ashamed of it.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
I almost laughed.
“Good?”
“Shame can be useful for about five minutes.”
“What happens after five minutes?”
“You change.”
My mother could have said that.
Maybe that was what unsettled me most about Lucy.
She did not replace Sofia.
Nobody could.
But sometimes she moved a hand or tilted her head and I saw a tiny piece of the woman I had lost.
Not magic.
Inheritance.
Gesture.
Expression.
May you like
Rhythm.
Family surviving in places nobody knew to look.
