Chapter 17 - Leo returns home
Five weeks after the garage, Leo asked to sleep at my house again.
Marina did not decide for him alone.
Neither did I.
His therapist, Dr. Grace Lin, helped us evaluate.
Leo’s fear centered on:
Garage.
Dinner rules.
Helena returning.
Not on me.
He wanted:
Door to garage locked at night.
No cars except “Dad cars.”
No Helena.
Reasonable.
The west garage bays were empty by then.
Disputed client vehicles had been moved under documented arrangements to neutral commercial storage.
My own vehicles remained in two bays.
The garage looked enormous without Helena’s fleet.
Leo stood at the threshold.
“Where are the silver ones?”
“Gone.”
“Can they come back?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
“Not Helena’s business cars.”
He stepped inside.
Then stopped near the spot where the bucket had spilled.
No stain.
He remembered anyway.
“Do I have to clean?”
“No.”
“What if I spill?”
“Then we clean the spill.”
“What if I scratch your car?”
“You tell me.”
“And?”
“We handle it.”
“Do I eat?”
“Yes.”
He stared at me as though testing contract language.
“Even if Lamborghini?”
“I do not own a Lamborghini.”
“What if?”
“Yes.”
“Ferrari?”
“Yes.”
“Plane?”
“You are not allowed near my plane with a scooter.”
He laughed.
Good.
Then dinner.
Chicken.
Rice.
Broccoli.
Leo refused broccoli.
I said:
“Eat two bites.”
He looked at me.
“Or no dinner?”
My stomach tightened.
“No. Dinner is already yours. You need to try vegetables.”
He ate one bite.
Negotiated.
Normal parenting had become complicated because food had been turned into currency.
Dr. Lin warned us not to swing to the opposite extreme where Leo controlled every meal out of guilt.
Structure still mattered.
Dessert could depend on ordinary rules.
Basic nourishment could not depend on commercial debt.
That distinction took weeks.
Then Leo asked about Helena’s charges.
“Is she going to jail?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want her to?”
“I want the truth handled properly.”
“That sounds like lawyer.”
May you like
It did.
I had been spending too much time with Rebecca.
