Chapter 4 - The pediatrician asks the question I did not
Dr. Alicia Garner had been Lily’s pediatrician since birth.
I brought Lily the next morning with my mother.
Police recommended medical documentation.
Lily wore her own clothes again.
Pink sweatshirt.
Jeans.
Snow Two under one arm.
Dr. Garner examined her.
No fractures.
No significant bruising.
No burns.
No malnutrition.
Two small abrasions on one knee.
Normal childhood possibilities.
Mild irritation around fingertips from shoe polish?
No chemical injury.
The polish used the day before was a mild cream product.
No evidence she had been forced to ingest it.
That mattered because Claire’s threat had been:
“If you don’t clean it properly, I’ll make you lick it.”
Threat.
Not completed ingestion.
Dr. Garner asked:
“Has Claire ever hit you?”
Lily shook her head.
“Pushed you?”
She shrugged.
“Grabbed you hard?”
Lily touched her upper arm.
“Sometimes.”
No visible injury.
“Did she give you food?”
“Yes.”
“Did she ever say you couldn’t eat?”
“Dessert.”
Normal territory.
Then:
“Snack when bad.”
“How long?”
Lily did not know.
Dr. Garner changed direction.
“When Dad travels, who makes you feel safest?”
Lily answered:
“Maria.”
Maria Torres was one of our housekeepers.
Not Claire.
Not nanny Jenna.
Maria.
“Why?”
“Maria says I can cry.”
I felt something inside me collapse.
I had spent months asking:
Did you have a good day?
Did Claire take care of you?
Were you good for everyone?
Wrong questions.
Dr. Garner looked at me.
Then asked Lily:
“Who says you can’t cry?”
Lily stared at Snow Two.
“Claire says Daddy sad enough.”
There.
I turned away.
Amelia.
Claire had told my four-year-old that mentioning her dead mother burdened me.
I needed the wall for a moment.
Dr. Garner put one hand on my shoulder.
“Ethan.”
I looked back.
“Stay with her.”
Right.
Not my grief.
Lily’s appointment.
May you like
I sat.
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