Chapter 14 - THE FIRST TIME MY MOTHER ASKED PERMISSIONFourteen months after the dining-room incident, Allison hosted Thanksgiving.
Gwen nearly refused to go.
Brenda would be there.
We had not shared a room with her since mediation.
Allison proposed clear rules.
Brenda would not hold Noah unless Gwen offered.
No discussions about the pregnancy.
No comments about food, parenting, weight, housekeeping, money, or medical decisions.
If Gwen wanted to leave, we left.
No debate.
Brenda agreed.
We went.
I watched my mother see Noah enter the room.
He was walking now.
Unsteady.
Determined.
Holding a stuffed fox.
Brenda put both hands together in her lap.
She did not stand.
That restraint told me therapy had reached somewhere words had not.
Noah wandered around the living room.
Eventually he came near her.
Brenda looked at Gwen.
Not me.
“May I say hello?”
Gwen stood still.
Then nodded.
“Hello is fine.”
Brenda smiled at Noah.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
Nothing else.
No reaching.
No tears designed to change the decision.
No:
Come to Grandma.
No:
Doesn’t he know me?
Just hello.
Later, Gwen went into the kitchen.
Brenda followed only far enough to stop at the doorway.
“Can I come in?”
Gwen looked surprised.
“Yes.”
I could not hear their conversation.
That was another kind of progress.
Not everything needed me as interpreter.
On the drive home, I asked Gwen:
“How was that?”
“Hard.”
“Bad?”
“No.”
“Good?”
She looked out the window.
“Don’t make me grade it.”
I laughed softly.
“Fair.”
Then she said:
“She asked before entering the kitchen.”
“I noticed.”
“She would’ve thought that was ridiculous two years ago.”
“Yes.”
Gwen leaned her head against the seat.
“I’m not ready for her to babysit.”
“I know.”
“Maybe never.”
I swallowed.
“Okay.”
She looked at me.
I meant it.
That was my test too.
May you like
Could I accept a boundary even if the final outcome disappointed me?
If Brenda was learning it, so could I.
