Chapter 12 - THE APOLOGY ELODIE ACTUALLY NEEDED
A year after the hospital incident, Elodie asked:
“Can Grandma say sorry to me?”
Not:
Can I see Grandma?
Specific.
Dr. Meyers helped plan it.
Neutral therapy office.
I stayed in the room.
So did Hannah.
Vivian entered slowly.
Elodie held Mr. Gray.
Both ears repaired.
Vivian sat across from her.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Vivian said:
“I did things that scared you.”
Elodie nodded.
“I took your rabbit.”
“Yes.”
“I made you stand when you were sick.”
“Yes.”
“I told you crying meant you were pretending.”
Elodie’s mouth trembled.
“Yes.”
Vivian started crying.
She stopped herself from reaching forward.
Good.
Then:
“I was wrong.”
Elodie looked at her.
“Why?”
Vivian answered carefully.
“Because I had old fears that belonged to me, and I treated them like they belonged to you.”
A seven-year-old would not fully understand that.
But the rest was simple.
“You were sick. You were scared. You needed help. I should have helped.”
Elodie hugged the rabbit.
Then asked:
“Do you still think I cry too much?”
Vivian smiled through tears.
“No.”
“Dad says I’m dramatic sometimes.”
I stared at my daughter.
“Hilarious.”
Dr. Meyers laughed.
Even Vivian did.
Then Elodie became serious.
“I don't want to go to your house.”
Vivian’s face changed.
“Okay.”
“No sleepovers.”
“Okay.”
“You can't hide Mr. Gray.”
“Never again.”
Elodie looked at me.
“Can we go now?”
“Yes.”
May you like
Vivian did not ask for a hug.
That was the most convincing part of her apology.
