Chapter 22 - Meeting Sophie
I met my niece when she was eighteen months old.
Not because Olivia deserved it.
Because I wanted to.
Julia arranged the first meeting at a park.
Public.
One hour.
Olivia arrived pushing a stroller.
She looked terrified.
Good.
Sophie had Olivia’s eyes.
Curly light-brown hair.
She stared at me with the solemn suspicion toddlers reserve for unfamiliar adults.
I crouched.
“Hi, Sophie.”
She hid behind Olivia’s leg.
Fair.
Olivia said:
“You don’t have to—”
“I know.”
We did not discuss the miscarriage.
Or Karen.
Or Daniel.
We watched Sophie throw mulch.
Then attempt to eat mulch.
Normal toddler ambitions.
At the end, Olivia said:
“Thank you.”
I answered:
“I did this for me too.”
She nodded.
No hug.
The relationship resumed in inches.
Not because sisters are supposed to reconcile.
May you like
Because Olivia had spent eighteen months respecting no.
Behavior before closeness.
