Chapter 21 - RAMONA’S SECOND MEETING
Elsie was eleven when she asked for another meeting.
Ramona had not requested one.
That mattered.
“Why?”
“I have questions.”
We involved Dr. Cole again.
Neutral office.
I sat outside.
Elsie went in with a notebook.
Ramona smiled when she saw her but did not stand.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Elsie opened the notebook.
“Did you hate Tilda?”
Ramona blinked.
“No.”
“You tried to fire her.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she noticed things.”
“Did you think Daddy was stupid?”
I almost laughed outside.
Ramona took time.
“I thought your dad avoided conflict.”
“He does.”
I glared at the wall.
Still true.
Ramona smiled faintly.
“Yes.”
Then:
“Did you think he’d forgive you after the contract?”
“I thought if the business worked, he would decide the way I got there mattered less.”
“Why?”
“Because I was arrogant.”
Good.
Then Elsie asked:
“Did you love me?”
Long silence.
Ramona’s eyes filled.
“I loved being important to you.”
Not the same.
Elsie noticed.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Ramona nodded.
“I know.”
Then:
“I cared about you. But I also wanted you to see me as your mother, and when you didn’t, I made that about my needs instead of yours.”
Specific.
“Did you love me?”
“I think I did, but I did not behave safely enough for love to be useful.”
Elsie stared.
Then wrote something.
I would later learn:
Love not useful if unsafe.
A brutal note for an eleven-year-old.
But true.
Then:
“Why the dog bowl?”
Ramona looked away.
“To humiliate you.”
No sensory nonsense.
“Why?”
“Because I was angry you would not obey me.”
Elsie’s face hardened.
“That was cruel.”
“Yes.”
Then:
“Do you still think kids should obey adults?”
“Sometimes. Safety rules. Basic rules.”
“What if adult wrong?”
“They should be allowed to tell another safe adult.”
Good.
Then Elsie closed the notebook.
“No hug.”
Ramona nodded.
“I won’t ask.”
Meeting ended.
Outside, Elsie looked tired.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to talk?”
“No.”
We went for burgers.
Two hours later she said:
“She loved being important.”
“Yes.”
“That’s weird.”
“Yes.”
Then:
“Do you love being important to me?”
I thought carefully.
“I love being your dad.”
“Different?”
“I hope so.”
She nodded.
Then:
“If I stop needing you?”
I smiled.
“You’re supposed to need me less.”
“Will you be sad?”
“Probably.”
“Will you lock me in wall?”
I stared.
She smiled mischievously.
Dark humor.
A sign of healing perhaps.
“Absolutely. I have several prepared.”
She laughed so hard soda came through her nose.
Dr. Cole later said humor can help when the child controls it.
Fine.
No one else gets to make that joke first.
Then Dad heard it and tried.
Elsie said:
“No, Grandpa. Only us.”
He respected.
Boundaries even around humor.
Then Ramona sent no follow-up.
Good.
The relationship remained two meetings in seven years.
No artificial family reunion.
Elsie had answers.
Ramona had consequences.
May you like
And I had learned that closure is not one grand conversation.
Sometimes it is simply having fewer questions the next year.
