Chapter 25 - What We Put on the Wall
By November, the loose board on our porch had become a family accusation.
Every visitor heard about it.
Daddy was going to fix it.
Daddy had bought screws.
Daddy had watched a video.
Daddy had, according to Nico, entered an extended research phase.
On Saturday morning, Daniel arrived carrying a toolbox.
“I understand there’s a historical project here.”
Lena handed him coffee.
“We’re hoping to finish it before the children leave for college.”
I opened the front door.
“I live among critics.”
“Uneven flooring creates them,” Daniel said.
The twins helped carry tools. Isabel supervised from the steps until Lena persuaded her that supervisors also needed breakfast.
By noon, the board was secure.
Daniel had made me do most of the work.
“That,” he said, pressing his foot against it, “is how you know what you’re promising next time.”
Later, Hannah and Ava came for lunch.
There was no occasion.
Lena had made too much soup. Hannah had bread. Ava needed to borrow a book Noah had insisted was essential reading despite being several years below her age level.
Caroline arrived with lemons and immediately began criticizing how I stored them.
Marco called from his sister’s house. Noah held the phone against Charlie’s ear until Marco demanded a human representative.
The kitchen grew crowded.
Someone opened a window.
For a while, I could not hear a complete conversation from beginning to end.
I loved it.
After lunch, Noah brought out a large sheet of paper.
His teacher had asked the class to draw a place where they felt comfortable.
He had drawn our kitchen.
Lena stood by the stove. Isabel occupied most of the table. Nico was feeding Charlie something suspicious.
I stood beside the sink.
“What am I doing?” I asked.
“Dishes.”
“An accurate portrait.”
He had drawn more people around the edges.
Caroline with a cake.
Marco holding a postcard.
Daniel carrying a toolbox.
Hannah beside Ava.
In one corner was a small framed picture labeled ELENA.
Lena studied it without speaking.
“Can it go on the wall?” Noah asked.
“Where would you like it?”
He pointed beside the height marks.
We found tape.
Ava stood nearby while he smoothed the paper into place.
“You put me in.”
“You come here,” Noah said.
She looked at the drawing, then at the pencil line bearing her name.
“Yes,” she answered. “I do.”
After everyone left, I stepped onto the repaired porch.
Lena joined me with two mugs.
“Thinking?” she asked.
“A little.”
“About what?”
“The school paper.”
She leaned against the railing.
“What about it?”
“I wanted to tear it up. Make sure he never saw anything like it again.”
“I know.”
“Now he’s put something else on the wall.”
Through the window, we could see the drawing beside the pantry.
It did not erase the photograph.
It did not correct a company record or return a lost house.
It showed what Noah had seen when asked where he felt comfortable.
That was something I could keep working to deserve.
Inside, Isabel called for help finding a slipper.
Lena started toward the door.
“Stay,” I said. “Finish your tea. I’ll find it.”
May you like
The new porch board held steady beneath my feet.
I went inside.
