Chapter 11 - A MOTHER RETURNS
Serena did not move into my house.
Good.
Everyone expected her to.
Reporters.
Relatives.
Even Perrin.
No.
She rented a furnished apartment near her rehabilitation team.
Perrin saw her three times a week initially.
Therapist-supported.
Then ordinary visits.
First lunch.
Then park.
Then afternoon at her apartment.
He asked every time:
“You stay?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Until you go home with Dad.”
“Then tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
Predictability.
He had lost enough of it.
I attended some visits.
Not all.
Serena needed a relationship with her son that did not exist only through me.
She walked with a cane for long distances.
Short-term memory remained imperfect.
Crowded rooms overwhelmed her.
She sometimes forgot words.
None of that made her less Perrin’s mother.
It did mean we moved slowly.
One afternoon Perrin spilled juice.
He froze.
Serena looked confused.
“Why are you scared?”
“Rhea mad when spill.”
Serena closed her eyes.
Then got a towel.
“No one is mad.”
That was all.
Small repair.
Then the stuffed dog.
Serena told him its name.
Marlow.
I had forgotten.
Perrin looked at me triumphantly.
“Mom knows.”
“Yes.”
She did.
May you like
That night he slept alone in his room for the first time since the wall.
Progress.
