Chapter 14 - Margaret Asked Before Coming In
By spring, Margaret had stopped entering my apartment without knocking.
That sounds like a small accomplishment.
It wasn't.
She had done it twice after Nathan died and continued because I never told her to stop.
Then she treated my silence like a permanent invitation.
Now she knocked.
Waited.
Sometimes I said no.
She survived.
The first time was ugly.
“I drove twenty minutes.”
“I know.”
“I brought Lily's shoes.”
“She has shoes.”
“You said she needed the blue ones.”
“Tomorrow.”
Margaret stood in the hall looking wounded.
Then left.
No punishment text.
No call to Jason.
No message through Lily.
The next week she asked first.
Better.
Jason noticed too.
“Mom asked if Ethan could sleep over.”
“And?”
“I said no.”
“What happened?”
“She said okay.”
We stared at each other.
Jason whispered:
“Should we call somebody?”
I laughed.
Margaret was not transformed.
She still gave advice before being asked.
Still acted like family dinner attendance was a federal requirement.
Still referred to my apartment as “temporary” even though I'd lived there three years.
People rarely become new personalities because one lie gets exposed.
But some behaviors changed.
That counted.
Miles repaired Lily's rabbit properly after my blue stitches started coming loose.
He asked me before speaking to Lily.
Progress there too.
When he returned it, he brought Nathan's terrible second rabbit.
One ear twice the size of the other.
Lily stared.
“What is that?”
“Your father was learning,” Miles said.
She laughed.
“Can I have both?”
I looked at Miles.
He nodded.
“They're yours.”
No hidden keys this time.
I checked.
Lily caught me.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“You're squeezing Bunny.”
“Quality control.”
She rolled her eyes.
Seven going on forty.
Margaret arrived while Miles was still there.
She stopped when she saw him.
He stopped too.
Five years of dislike entered my living room.
I waited.
Margaret said:
“Miles.”
“Maggie.”
Her face tightened at the nickname.
Then:
“I owe you an apology.”
He looked genuinely alarmed.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“For?”
“Calling you after Nathan died and telling you not to contact Rachel.”
My head turned.
That was new.
“Miles.”
He closed his eyes.
“Damn.”
I stared.
“When?”
Margaret answered.
“About two weeks after the funeral.”
“What did you say?”
“That you were unstable.”
My anger returned immediately.
“To him?”
“Yes.”
“You told Miles I was unstable.”
“I said contacting you about Room Three would make things worse.”
Miles added:
“She said you knew enough.”
I stared.
“You listened.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You had a toddler. Your husband had just died. His mother said you were barely sleeping.”
“True.”
“I decided it wasn't my place.”
“Also a decision.”
“Yes.”
He looked ashamed.
I paced toward the kitchen.
Margaret said:
“Rachel.”
I turned.
“This is exactly why I don't believe we're done finding pieces.”
“We may not be.”
At least she didn't promise.
“What else?”
Margaret looked at Miles.
He shook his head.
Not rescuing her.
She thought.
Then:
“I called your landlord once after you moved out.”
My mouth fell open.
“Why?”
“To ask for your forwarding address.”
“Did he give it?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I called your mother's house.”
“My mother told me.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“I think.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“Terrible answer.”
“True answer.”
Good.
I sat.
Lily was in her bedroom.
Door closed.
She did not need this.
Miles said:
“I also owe you one.”
“I'm collecting.”
“Nathan asked me once whether he should leave without telling you where he was going.”
I stared.
“What did you say?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“He said you might try to stop him.”
“Did you believe that?”
“For about an hour.”
“Why?”
“Because he was my friend and angry.”
Miles looked at me.
“Then I realized I only had his version.”
That was the pattern.
Everybody briefly accepting the person in front of them as the full story.
Margaret sat opposite me.
“What do you want me to do?”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Nothing tonight.”
She nodded.
Then:
“Can I stay for dinner?”
The old Margaret would already have taken off her coat.
This one waited.
I looked at Miles.
He laughed.
“Don't involve me.”
Right.
I looked back at Margaret.
“Yes.”
She took off her coat.
Dinner was awkward.
Then ordinary.
Lily made both rabbits sit at the table until I told her stuffed animals did not get pasta.
Margaret argued that Nathan used to allow it.
I looked at her.
She stopped.
“Sorry.”
Then asked Lily:
“Do you want Bunny at the table?”
Lily said:
“Yes.”
I sighed.
“Fine.”
May you like
The rabbit got a chair.
Maybe not every boundary needed to become doctrine.
