Chapter 17 - ELODIE’S RABBIT
Mr. Patches became a problem.
Not because Elodie loved him.
Because everyone started turning him into a symbol.
Lawyers wanted photographs.
Therapist referenced him.
Hospital staff remembered him.
I found myself making sure he was visible during visits.
Then realized.
No.
He was hers.
Not evidence prop.
I stopped mentioning him.
One afternoon Elodie left him at school.
Panic.
We drove back.
School locked.
She sobbed.
“Need him.”
“I know.”
“Grandma says babies need toys.”
I crouched.
“What do you think?”
“I need him.”
“Then that’s enough.”
We called custodian? Too much. Could wait until morning. She had another blanket. She cried, then managed. Next morning got rabbit.
I did not make surviving one night a lesson that Bernice had been right.
Elodie could cope and still keep comfort.
That distinction became central.
Then one therapy session:
“Do you think Grandma loves you?”
Dr. Ellis? We had therapist maybe Dr. Maya Levin. Let's name once now: Dr. Maya Levin.
Elodie said:
“Yes.”
“Do you think Grandma believes you?”
“No.”
That was the wound.
Not love.
Belief.
Then:
“Do you want to see her?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
Elodie shrugged.
May you like
“I want her to know asthma real.”
That would matter later.
