Chapter 13 - Saying It Plainly
My name is Ellie and I was four that winter Dad still kept the hall light on for me. That night the couch smelled like clean laundry and my arm itched under the white wrap.
Dad sat me in the middle of the couch with my bear tucked under my good arm. The TV was off. Vanessa sat in the chair across from us, not close. She still wore her cream cardigan and her hands kept pulling at the sleeves. Dad had changed out of his work shirt into a gray t-shirt, but his watch was still on his left wrist. He kept checking that I was covered with the blanket.
I remembered the bathroom steam and the way the water had felt too big and too hot. I didn't say that. I squeezed my bear's ear. It was getting thin from holding.
Vanessa looked at Dad first and then at me. She breathed in and out before she talked. "Ellie, I need to say this plain," she said. Her voice was low. "That night I ran your bath and I didn't test it with my hand. I just let it fill. That was my fault."
Dad didn't move. His arm stayed around my shoulders.
"I told your dad you were being dramatic," Vanessa said. "That wasn't true and it wasn't fair. I said it because I felt ashamed. I didn't want him to think I messed up."
I looked down at my bear. I didn't know the word ashamed, but I knew how her face looked. Her eyes went shiny and she blinked fast.
Dad shifted forward a little. His voice stayed even, not loud. "The hot water was a mistake, Vanessa. What hurt trust more was what you said after. When you minimized it in the bathroom and at the clinic door. That made it harder for me to believe what I was hearing."
Vanessa nodded and pulled her cardigan tighter. "I know," she said. "I'm not trying to argue that."
The fridge hummed in the kitchen. A car went by outside the apartment windows. I picked at a loose thread on the blanket.
Vanessa got up slow from the chair and kneeled down on the rug in front of the couch so her face was level with mine. She didn't touch my bad arm. She kept her hands on her own knees.
"Ellie, I'm sorry I let the water get too hot and I'm sorry I didn't listen when you said it hurt," she said. "No excuses. You told the truth."
That was simple enough that I understood it. My throat felt tight. I leaned a little into Dad without meaning to. He rubbed my back once, light, away from the dressing.
"It's okay to still feel mad," Vanessa said. "Or scared."
I nodded. I wanted to be polite like the nurse told me, but I also didn't want her to help with my bath. I held my bear up between us a little, not on purpose, just because it felt safer. "Okay," I whispered. "But Dad does baths now."
Vanessa's mouth moved like she wanted to say more, but she just nodded. "Yes," she said. "Dad does baths."
Dad cleared his throat. He looked tired around his eyes. "Here's what's going to happen for a while," he said, talking to both of us but looking at Vanessa. "No baths from you for a month. Not even helping. I do water, I test it, I stay in there. And you sign up for that parenting safety class at the clinic and you finish it. The one Dr. Harris gave us the paper for."
Vanessa looked down at the rug and then back up. "I will," she said. "I already called about Tuesday nights."
"Good," Dad said. "We stay honest in this apartment, even when it's uncomfortable. That's the rule."
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He stood and carried me to brush my teeth, one-handed, my good arm around his neck and my bear pressed to his shirt. Vanessa stayed on the rug a second longer, then got up and turned on the hall light for us. In the bathroom she stood in the doorway and didn't come in, just watched Dad test the sink water and let me spit.
Back on the couch Dad tucked the blanket around my legs again. Vanessa sat back in the chair, farther away than before but still in the room. I let her smooth the blanket over my feet. I didn't crawl into her lap like I used to. I kept Dad's hand in mine and my bear in the crook of my other arm, and that felt honest enough for that night.
