Part 11
I asked the question that hurt.
“Why didn’t Chloe tell me?”
Marianne became quiet.
“That part is between you and her.”
“You know.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
She hesitated.
Then said.
“Because you said no.”
I stared.
“When?”
“The first year.”
My chest tightened.
I remembered nothing.
Marianne continued.
“Chloe told me you were worried about people turning Leo into a project.”
That memory returned.
Faintly.
Years earlier, Chloe had once suggested.
“What if Leo had a regular place to practice ordering?”
I had answered too quickly.
“I don’t want strangers experimenting on him.”
Chloe said.
“That’s not what I mean.”
I told her.
“He has therapists.”
“I want his free time to be free.”
Then I apparently forgot the conversation.
Chloe did not.
Marianne said.
“She thought you would stop the visits if she told you.”
I felt anger rise.
“She lied to me for ten years.”
“Yes.”
Marianne did not defend her.
“She did.”
Then she added.
“But nothing happened here without Leo agreeing.”
I looked toward him.
“He was eight.”
“Yes.”
“That is not the same as adult consent.”
“No.”
“But Chloe never forced him.”
“And as he got older, she asked him repeatedly whether he wanted to keep coming.”
“He always said yes.”
I was furious.
Confused.
Grateful.
All at once.
Part 12
Then Marianne told me the bigger truth.
The visits had changed after Leo turned sixteen.
The diner had begun paying him.
Not much.
Two hours every month at first.
Then two hours every other Saturday when Chloe was in town.
He folded napkins.
Restocked condiment caddies.
Wiped menus.
Updated the specials board with supervision.
Eventually, he helped enter inventory numbers.
Because numbers were one of his strengths.
Marianne opened a small cabinet.
She removed a folder.
LEO.
Inside were pay stubs.
Copies.
Every dollar recorded.
Taxes withheld where required.
Nothing secret financially.
The checks had not been cashed.
I stared.
“Why?”
“He wanted to save them.”
“For what?”
Marianne smiled.
“You should ask him.”
I felt my knees weaken.
“How much?”
“A little over six thousand dollars.”
I stared at her.
“Six thousand?”
“Over several years.”
“He increased hours slowly.”
“And Chloe matched some of it.”
My head snapped up.
“She what?”
“Every birthday.”
“Every Christmas.”
“She added money to his savings.”
I leaned against the wall.
Chloe had not simply been taking my son for fries.
She had been helping him build a life.
Part 13
I walked back to the booth.
Everyone went quiet.
Chloe looked at me.
She knew Marianne had told me.
I sat down.
“Leo.”
“Yes?”
“What have you been doing here?”
He looked at Chloe.
I said.
“Look at me.”
He did.
“Please.”
His hands tightened around the edge of the table.
Then he said.
“Working.”
Ben stopped breathing.
“You work here?”
“Yes.”
I asked.
“For how long?”
“Officially two years.”
“And before that?”
“Practice.”
My eyes filled.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Leo thought.
Then answered.
“Because you worry.”
The words hit hard.
“I worry because I’m your mother.”
“I know.”
“Did Chloe tell you not to tell me?”
He looked at her.
Chloe said.
“Leo, answer honestly.”
He said.
“At first.”
My stomach turned.
“At first?”
“When I was little.”
“What did she say?”
“She said this was our practice place.”
“She said Mom might stop it.”
Chloe closed her eyes.
I looked at her.
“You told my son to keep a secret from me.”
“Yes.”
Her voice was barely audible.
I stood.
“I need air.”
