Chapter 14 - An Apology That Fits
Nobody said anything for a minute after my mom stopped talking. The deck boards were still warm under my shoes, and I could hear the grill ticking as it cooled. Leo stood pressed against my leg, his fingers hooked in the pocket of my jeans. He'd put his striped shirt back on that morning without me asking, the one with the thin colors and the little blue pocket, and he'd smoothed it down like it mattered.
Carol was at the far end of the deck by the railing. Same green floral dress, her short brown bob tucked behind her ears. She wasn't holding anything this time. No plate. No tongs. Her hands were empty and she kept rubbing one thumb over the other.
Colleen stood between us, arms crossed, watching her sister. My mom sat in one of the deck chairs, her phone face-down on the armrest for once.
It was Carol who moved first. She took two steps toward us and then stopped, like she wasn't sure how close she was allowed to get.
"Jenna," she said. "Can I — can I talk to him?"
I looked down at Leo. His hair stuck up in the back where he'd slept on it. He wasn't crying. He was just watching.
I crouched a little so my face was closer to his. "Grandma Carol wants to say something to you. You want to listen? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."
He hesitated, then gave me the smallest nod. I kept my hand on his shoulder.
Carol came closer. And then, slowly, awkwardly, she knelt. Her knees cracked on the wood and she winced. She didn't try to touch him. She put her hands on her own lap and looked at him straight on, not over him.
"Hi, buddy," she said. Her voice was rough. "Saturday, out here... you put your hand up because you wanted some fries."
Leo stared at her plate-less hands.
"I had that white plate," she went on. "And I walked right past you. I gave them to someone else. And then everybody laughed, and you were crying, and I laughed too."
She swallowed. "I did that. I'm sorry I skipped you. I'm sorry I laughed when you were sad."
Leo didn't move. He pressed harder into my leg. I could feel his heartbeat through his shirt, fast and light.
Carol waited. She didn't reach for him or try to make it cute. "You didn't do anything wrong for asking," she added. "You were supposed to ask. I was the grown-up."
Colleen shifted behind her, but she didn't jump in. My mom stayed still in her chair. This had to be Carol's own weight to carry.
Leo looked up at me. His eyes asked the question he wouldn't say out loud. Is this real?
"It's okay to take your time," I told him quietly.
He looked back at Carol for a long few seconds. Then he nodded. Just once. Not a big forgive-and-forget smile. A careful nod, like okay, I heard you.
My throat got tight. That nod cost him something.
Carol nodded back. "Thank you for listening to me," she said. She started to stand, using the railing to push herself up.
I didn't let the moment close yet. This was the part I'd driven back here for.
"Mom," I said, and Carol turned. I used the word on purpose. She was still his grandma, but I was still his mom first.
I kept my hand on Leo's shoulder. My voice stayed low, but I didn't soften it.
"From now on, I need a rule out here. No skipping Leo with food to make a point. No teasing him for crying when he's hungry or hurt. If there's a limit on something, you tell all the kids the same thing before you hand anything out."
Carol's mouth tightened. The old flash of defensiveness crossed her face. "Jenna, I didn't plan—"
"I know," I said. "That's why I'm saying it plain now. If it happens again, we leave. We'll still come, but we won't stay for it."
The deck went quiet again, except for a truck going by on the county road. Colleen uncrossed her arms. My mom picked up her phone and put it in her purse, like she was done waiting for someone else to fix it.
Carol looked at Leo, then at me. "No teasing," she repeated. "Same for everybody." She didn't say it perfectly. She didn't cry or make a speech. She just said it.
Leo tugged my jeans. I bent down, and he whispered, "Can we go see if Rosa has ice?"
Not yet, not today. But the fact he said her name meant he was thinking about a safe place again.
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"Later this week," I promised. "We'll go see Rosa."
He leaned his head against my hip, and we stood there on that same sunny deck where he'd raised his hand and been laughed at, with the people who'd laughed now having to stand in the quiet they'd made.
