And there were vegetables and a salad that Victoria made under instruction that she followed more carefully than she'd followed most things in recent memory. They sat at a table that was just right for three. Ava talked about her school day with the comprehensive authority of someone delivering a state of the union address, the injustice of the seating arrangement in math class, the political dynamics of who sat where at lunch, the ongoing unresolved matter of the classroom hamster being allowed out of its cage on on Wednesdays but not Thursdays, which Ava felt was arbitrary and inconsistent. Victoria found herself listening to all of it. Not nodding absently, not halfpresent the way she was in most social situations.
Actually listening, actually engaged in the unfolding narrative of an 8-year-old's week, which was, she thought, probably the most earnest story she'd heard in years. And then at recess, Ava said, leaning forward with emphasis. Tyler knocked over my castle. The one I'd been building for 3 days. What did you do?
Victoria asked. I told Miss Patterson. Did that help? Ava thought about it. It helped me feel like I'd done the right thing.
Tyler still didn't care. He's like that. Some people are like that. Victoria said. Even when you're much older, Ava looked at her with sudden attention.
Do you have people like that at your job? Everyday? Victoria said. What do you do? I try to remember that what they damage doesn't define what I built.
Ava blinked. Thought about this. Then she pointed her fork at Victoria with an expression of supreme satisfaction. That's good, she said. I'm going to tell Tyler that Marcus was looking at Victoria across the table.
She felt it rather than saw it the particular quality of a look from someone who is revising their estimate of you. She didn't look up immediately. She ate a bite of rice and thought that if she'd known food tasted different when it came from a real kitchen with people around it, she might have done something different with her last few years. After dinner, Ava did her homework at the kitchen table with the focused intensity of someone who hated homework, but had decided to hate it as efficiently as possible. And Marcus washed the dishes.
And Victoria, without being asked, without making it a gesture, dried them and put them away where she guessed they went and got the placement right about 70% of the time. And Marcus corrected her wordlessly on the other 30. And none of it was awkward. She kept waiting for the moment it would become awkward. It didn't come.
At 7:30, Ava announced she was ready for bed with the cheerful finality of someone who had decided this on their own terms and was proud of it. "I want to show you something first," she said to Victoria. Victoria looked at Marcus. He gave a small shrug up to you. "Show me," Victoria said.