Chapter 26 - THE STAIRCASE AGAINTwo years after the fall, Meadow stood at the top of the staircase carrying a laundry basket.
I looked up from the living room.
“No.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Mom.”
“Put it down.”
“I can carry laundry.”
“With two hands?”
Her left shoulder had healed well.
Almost full motion.
Occasional ache after gymnastics.
“Yes.”
She lifted the basket.
“Observe.”
“Arrogance is hereditary.”
“From you.”
Fair.
She started down.
My body tightened.
One step.
Two.
Three.
I wanted to stand beneath her.
I didn’t.
Four.
Five.
She reached the bottom.
“See?”
“Yes.”
“You were scared.”
“Yes.”
She frowned.
“You always admit it.”
“I’m trying.”
She dropped the basket.
“Can we turn the camera off?”
I looked toward the small black device above the stairs.
“Why?”
“It makes me feel like the stairs are still a crime.”
I had never thought of it that way.
The evidentiary copy existed with law enforcement and attorneys.
We no longer needed my home to remain a permanent archive.
That night I opened the security application.
Stairwell camera.
Disable?
My thumb hovered.
Then Meadow said:
“Mom.”
“What?”
May you like
“It already happened.”
I turned it off.
