Chapter 39 Chapter 39
I woke up prior to daybreak. The air within the room was still, as though it hadn't moved throughout the night, and I lay there under the covers for a while, my eyes open, observing the slight angle of light creeping up the wall. Something was different about how quiet the house was, but it wasn't suffocating. It was peace. I rolled onto my back and reached to the spot above my heart, fingers curling over the hem of my nightshirt. Stanley's words echoed in that quiet corner of my mind, in that space I kept for things I hadn't processed yet.
“You don't have to do anything. Just let me be here.”
Let him be here? The words settled on my chest, warm and unsettling at the same time.
I eventually forced myself out of bed and marched to the kitchen, still in pyjamas and socks, my hair a tangled mess I lacked the energy to bother about. There were remnants of last night in the sink—two clean cups, one wadded napkin folded neatly, and the scent of fries and milkshakes in the air like a ghost that hadn't quite left.
Cam hadn't made a peep yet. I pushed open her bedroom door. The door cracked open and my gaze fell on her body. She was still asleep, curled up as always, one arm under her pillow, the other clutching her stuffed bear. I lingered a moment longer than I needed to.
When I turned back into the hall, something in the hallway mirror caught my eye—my own reflection. I looked different. Not younger or anythinglike that, I just a little more real, the kinda look you have when real life has dealt with you.
I poured a cup of coffee and carried it out onto the small porch off the living room, wrapped in a throw. The sky was streaked with pale orange and lavender, a watercolor painting slowly unscrolling into the day.
After perhaps half an hour, I noticed soft footsteps behind me. Cam stirred, scrubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, her hair tousled on one side. She blinked at me in the morning light, then came and leaned against my side without a word. I pulled the blanket over her too.
"You're up early," I whispered.
"Good morning, mommy."
"Morning my Princess. Nightmares?" I asked.
She shook her head. "No."
I waited as she clung to me, obviously booting like a computer that had just been turn on.
Then she said, "Is Mr. Stanley coming again?
I gasped. I didn't answer right away. Her voice was gentle, barely above a whisper, as though she wasn't sure she had a right to ask. Or if it was all right to wish for the answer she wished for. Even I didn't know.
"Maybe," I said to her, brushing a hand through her tangled curls. "Would that be okay with you?"
She shrugged, though her eyes didn't quite meet mine. "He was funny. And he didn't talk too much.".
I smiled, moved by how much that had meant to her. Didn't say much. That was her way of saying she hadn't been overwhelmed.
"Yeah," I said. "He's good at that."
She laid her head on my shoulder and I let us stay that way for a while. It was a fragile moment—this small, provisional peace but it was something.
Later that morning, after breakfast and cartoons and the muffled bustle of laundry, my phone buzzed. The caller ID displayed the name “Stanley.”
I hesitated a little, deliberating weather to pick or not. The feeling of him brushing my hair back behind my ear, his thumb skimming my temple came back with a near humiliating vividness.
I took a deep breath and picked up. "Good morning," I said.
"Hey," he said. "Didn't want to wake you."
"You did not."
There was silence, after a few moments he spoke again. "Just checking in to see how you two are."
I glanced into the living room, where Cam was cross-legged on the floor coloring. "We're fine. Thanks. Thanks again for last night, it was really important."
"Thank God you're genuinely happy," he said. "I didn't want to overstep."
"You didn't."
"I left my sweater in your foyer. It is black in color. Can I swing by later in the week to pick it up?"
I smiled to myself. "The sweater you didn't wear?"
"Exactly."
A small part of me was grateful for the pretext, weak as it was. "Sure. Would Thursday work?"
"Thursday will be just fine, I'll bring bribes. Not fries this time, something that won't launch Cam into a sugar spiral, maybe."
I laughed. "I will appreciate that. " We said good-bye, and I held the phone a little longer than I needed to before hanging up but the warmth disappeared as soon as the day went on. That sly, whispery voice snuck back in.
“Be careful, Liana. Don't get comfortable.”
Because I'd been here before. Somebody nice, somebody charming. And then a turn. A shift. A betrayal. The high before the fall.
Stanley wasn't the same, he wasn't slick or trying too hard but that didn't mean he wouldn't hurt me. Or Cam.
I rode to therapy in silence. Cam spent the time with mum and a neighbour. I parked in the little lot in the back of the brick office building and climbed the stairs slowly. "You're earlier than usual," my therapist, Melissa, said as I entered.
"I needed to be."
She nodded and gestured to the chair across from hers. It always smelled vaguely of lavender and pencil shavings. It was odd, but comforting.
"So?" she said gently.
I breathed out and leaned back, arms folded loosely. "I let someone in."
"Tell me."
I described Stanley. The meal, the muted laughter, the way he looked at Cam without pity, the way she leaned into him. I described the telephone call. The sweater I was sure he intentionally “forgot”. The way I felt light and terrified at the same time.
She listened, as always, without interruption.
When I was done, she leaned forward slightly. "Do you like him?"
I exhaled. "I didn't, I mean, when I first met him I didn't like him. He got on my nerves, wanted too much, he just wasn't “HIM”. But I don't know where I am anymore.”
"That counts?"
"More than I thought."
She was quiet for a moment, then said, "Are you afraid he'll hurt Cam or afraid that you'll want him not to and be wrong again?"
I winced. That one hurt more than I expected.
"I don't know," I conceded. "Maybe both."
She nodded. "Children can be resilient but only when they feel safe. And Cam doesn't just notice what people do to her. She notices what they do to you."
I swallowed.
"You don't have to decide anything today," she said. "But don't punish him for someone else's sake. Let this story be what it is. One page at a time."