This time it hurt less.
“Why me?”
He shrugged.
“You looked lonely.”
“That is not flattering.”
“So did I.”
That was better.
“You could have asked any woman here.”
“I didn't want to.”
Clara studied him.
“What if tonight hadn’t happened?”
“The family-secret catastrophe?”
“Yes.”
“I would have asked for your number.”
She stared.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You make fun of me efficiently.”
“That’s your standard?”
“Among others.”
She smiled.
Then the smile faded.
“Do you pity me?”
Julian answered quickly.
“No.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because pity makes me want to leave situations.”
“You made me dance in front of two hundred people.”
“Fair.”
She looked toward the lights.
“People think wheelchair users are supposed to want somebody who sees past the chair.”
Julian waited.
“I hate that phrase.”
“Why?”
“I don't want someone to see past it.”
She touched one wheel.
“It’s part of my life.”
“My body.”
“My independence.”
“I just don't want it to be the only thing they see.”
Julian nodded.
“That makes sense.”
“You didn't say something inspirational.”
“I can if you want.”
“Please don't.”
“I have several terrible options.”
She laughed.
Then looked toward the garden again.
Margaret had not moved closer.
That mattered.
She had respected Clara’s request.
Clara felt something shift.
Not forgiveness.
Curiosity.
Maybe the beginning of something too fragile to name.
“What happens now?” she asked.
Julian looked at her.
“That should probably be your decision.”
Another unexpected answer.
Clara stared toward Margaret.
“Will you bring her here?”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
“That’s probably honest enough.”
He stood.
Before leaving, he paused.
“Clara?”
“Yes?”
“Your mother was never told you were disabled and unwanted.”
Clara frowned.
“What?”
“My father’s notes say she knew about your legs before delivery.”
Clara’s breath caught.
“How?”
“Ultrasound.”
“She knew?”
“Yes.”
“She had already met orthopedic specialists.”
Clara closed her eyes.
Sixteen-year-old Clara reading the social services file.
Biological mother declined continued custody following medical consultation.
Lie.
Not misunderstanding.
Lie.
“Bring her.”
Julian went.
Margaret arrived alone.
No Caroline.
She stopped several feet away.
“May I sit?”
Clara nodded.
Margaret sat on the far end of the stone wall.