It makes him scared. Yes, because of mom. Natalie was quiet for a moment. Do you know what I think? she said gently. Ava looked at her.
I think when you love someone the way your dad loves you. Every single moment they're not okay. Carries the memory of every other scary moment. It doesn't mean he's fragile. It means you're the most important thing in his world.
Ava thought about this for a long time. The way she thought about everything slow, thorough to the bottom. You're important to him, too, she said. Natalie looked at the small girl in the lavender room. Ava, I'm not trying to do something.
I'm just telling you what's true. How do you know what's true? Because I watch. She shifted under the blankets. Mom used to say I came out of her already watching.
She said, "I looked at everything like I was taking notes." Natalie's throat tightened. She sounds like she knew you exactly. She did. A pause.
Do you have someone who knows you exactly? The question was quiet and devastating and entirely without malice. Natalie looked at her hands. I'm working on it. Okay.
Ava closed her eyes. The fever was pulling her down. You can stay if you want. I don't mind. I'll stay until you fall asleep.
Ava was asleep in 8 minutes. Natalie sat on the edge of the lavender bed for a while, longer than she needed to. Then she got up, walked quietly out of the room, and pulled the door, too. Caleb was in the kitchen. He'd made coffee, two cups, she noticed.
He pushed one toward her without asking. She sat down at the wobbly table. They were quiet for a long moment. She told me she sit outside her door when she's sick. Natalie said caught.
She said she can hear you. I move quietly. Not quietly enough. She wrapped her hands around the mug. She also told me you're important to me in case I didn't know.