Instead, there was neglect and violence and emotional abuse, and there were terrible, terrible consequences for everyone involved.
And none of that is your fault, Eleanor, absolutely none of it. I don’t know if you need to forgive your mother, Eleanor,” she said.
“But I’m certain of one thing: you need to forgive yourself.” I nodded through the tears. It made sense.
I wasn’t sure that I quite believed it—yet—but it certainly made logical sense. And you can’t ask for more than that.
Blowing my nose, unembarrassed by the trumpeting, which was as nothing compared to the horrors
I’d already laid before Dr. Temple in this room, I made my decision.
It was time to say a final good-bye to Mummy. Raymond had insisted on meeting outside the counseling rooms that day to take me for coffee.
I watched him amble toward me. His peculiar loping walk was almost endearing now—
I wouldn’t recognize him if he started to walk as normal men did.
He had his hands in the pockets of his low-slung denim trousers, and was wearing a strange, oversized woolen hat that I hadn’t seen before.
It looked like the kind of hat that a German goblin might wear in an illustration from a nineteenth-century fairy tale,
possibly one about a baker who was unkind to children and got his comeuppance via an elfin horde.
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