Chapter 7 - Tess Stops Asking Why
Tess hated white dust.
Not all white things.
Powder.
Flour.
Chalk.
The first time Miranda opened a bag of flour in the kitchen, Tess left the room.
Miranda noticed.
She did not say:
It’s just flour.
Because to Tess, for that second, it wasn't.
Therapist Dr. Renee Foster helped.
No forced exposure.
No dramatic reenactment.
Small choices.
One day Tess asked:
“Why did Mrs. Dalton do it?”
Miranda had practiced answers.
None felt right.
“Because she was scared you would tell me.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Yes.”
“Was she stealing?”
“Investigators believe she took money she wasn't allowed to take.”
“How much?”
“Tess—”
“A lot?”
“Yes.”
Tess thought.
“More than our house?”
Miranda almost smiled.
“Money doesn't work that simply.”
“Adults always say that when the answer is yes.”
Miranda laughed despite herself.
Then Tess became serious.
“Did she hate me?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Tess noticed.
“How do you know?”
Miranda stopped.
She had learned this lesson from Maya-like prior? No.
“I don't know exactly what she felt.”
Tess nodded.
“What do you know?”
“What she did.”
“Okay.”
That was enough.
A few days later, Tess asked:
“Can people love you and still do bad things?”
Miranda felt her throat tighten.
“Yes.”
“Then how do you know who’s safe?”
Miranda looked toward the office hallway.
“You watch what they do over time.”
Tess considered.
“Not what they say?”
“Both.”
“But more what they do?”
“Yes.”
Tess nodded.
Then she stopped asking why.
Not because the question disappeared.
Because “why” no longer controlled whether she believed what happened.
Mrs. Dalton could have a reason.
Fear.
Entitlement.
Resentment.
May you like
Love.
None changed the extinguisher in her hands.
