Chapter 8 - Winnie Talks About Shoes
Dr. Nora Patel, a child psychologist recommended by our pediatrician, met Winnie.
No interrogation.
Play.
Drawing.
Dolls.
Over three sessions, Winnie revealed a pattern.
Genevieve said:
“Good kids keep things nice.”
If Winnie scuffed shoes:
No replacement.
If she stained cardigan:
“You don’t respect nice things.”
If she asked for something in boutique:
“Charity girls don’t pick.”
Where did:
charity
come from?
Winnie believed after Anna died:
“People help us because Mommy gone.”
Genevieve had told her:
“Everybody feels sorry for you now.”
That is poison to a grieving child.
Not because sympathy is bad.
Because it turns care into pity.
Another:
“Daddy buys things when he misses your mom.”
Maybe Genevieve believed that.
I had bought too much sometimes.
Gifts after travel.
Stuffed animals after hospital appointments.
Could be guilt.
Still not hers to tell Winnie.
Dr. Patel asked:
“What happens if shoes break?”
Winnie answered:
“Aunt says wear until Dad sees.”
There.
Why?
“Because Daddy too busy.”
That broke me.
Not because false.
Because sometimes true.
I had noticed the torn sole only after it became obvious.
How long?
Winnie:
“Long.”
Teacher later estimated at least three weeks.
The preschool had sent a note home about loose sole.
Where?
Inside backpack.
Who picked Winnie up that day?
Genevieve.
The note never reached me.
No evidence she destroyed it.
Could have been lost.
Then teacher emailed.
To my assistant.
The assistant forwarded to family care calendar address.
Genevieve had access.
She replied:
Handled.
There.
Again.
No hacking.
No elaborate interception.
A shared system built for convenience allowed the wrong person to close a loop.
Afterward we changed it.
School messages went directly to me and one designated caregiver.
No family group inbox.
Boring.
May you like
Necessary.
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