Chapter 13 - Elliot hates the word brave
Everyone called Elliot brave.
He hated it.
At school:
“You saved your baby sister.”
From relatives:
“You’re such a hero.”
From staff:
“Little man protected Clara.”
One evening he threw his fork onto the table.
“I wasn’t brave.”
I stopped.
“What do you mean?”
“I was scared.”
“Brave can include being scared.”
“No.”
He started crying.
“I couldn’t open the door.”
There it was.
Praise had become responsibility.
He believed protecting Clara meant he should have succeeded.
I moved beside him.
“You were seven in a locked car.”
“I covered her.”
“Yes.”
“She was hot.”
“Yes.”
“I should have broken window.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because getting yourself hurt would not have helped her.”
He looked angry.
Then:
“Why didn’t Aunt Aurelia do it?”
“Do what?”
“Protect us.”
No answer could improve that.
“She should have.”
That was enough.
We stopped calling him brave unless he used the word first.
He was allowed to be:
Scared.
Angry.
May you like
Tired.
Seven.
