The following morning, Grandma brought the old family album downstairs.
She placed it on the dining table.
I was sitting nearby, eating toast.
My aunt had arrived with a small shopping bag.
She took out fruit and placed it in the kitchen.
Then she noticed the album.
"Are you looking through these again?"
Grandma nodded.
"I was thinking about the birthday."
My aunt pulled out a chair.
She turned several pages.
There were photographs of family gatherings.
Christmas dinners.
School celebrations.
A few pictures of Dad when he was young.
I liked those.
He had thick hair and a serious expression.
In one photograph, he was standing beside Grandma in the garden.
He looked much younger than I had ever seen him.
My aunt smiled.
"He hated having his picture taken back then."
Grandma laughed softly.
"He always wanted to decide when the camera was allowed near him."
I looked at the photograph.
Dad was holding a small wooden toy.
I wondered whether he had been happy.
Then my aunt turned another page.
There was a picture from my previous birthday.
I was standing beside Dad.
My dress was slightly crooked.
My hair had fallen across my forehead.
But I was smiling.
I pointed at it.
"That's my blue dress."
Grandma nodded.
"I remember."
My aunt studied the photograph.
Then she looked at me.
"You look happy there."
I nodded.
I remembered that day.
Dad had bought me a small cake.
We had eaten it in the kitchen.
There were only a few photographs.
Nothing fancy.
But I had felt included.
Grandma turned another page.
Then she stopped.
There was an older photograph from a family gathering.
I was standing near the staircase.
Dad was beside me.
Grandma was behind us.
My aunt leaned closer.
"What's wrong?"
Grandma pointed at the picture.
"Look at her wrists."
I looked too.
I couldn't see anything unusual.
My aunt examined it carefully.
Then she said that the photograph was probably taken before my injuries.
Grandma nodded.
She wasn't suggesting otherwise.
She was looking at something else.
Dad's hand was resting on my shoulder.
I remembered that moment.
I had been trying to get his attention because I wanted to show him a drawing.
He had been speaking to someone.
I had waited beside him.
Grandma turned the page again.
There were more pictures.
She wasn't searching for evidence of something that hadn't been established.
She was remembering how often I had been included in ordinary family moments.
Then she closed the album.
"Let's not make her relive everything by looking at pictures all morning."
My aunt nodded.
I returned to my toast.
Later that day, Grandma received a message from someone helping with the safeguarding arrangements.
She read it carefully.
Then she spoke to my aunt.
They discussed the next appointment.
They discussed how communication with Dad should be handled.
They also discussed what would happen if he requested another meeting.
I didn't understand the details.
But I understood that the adults were being careful.
That afternoon, a small package arrived.
Grandma opened it at the kitchen table.
Inside was a replacement piece for Lily's broken arm.
She smiled.
"Look what arrived."
I hurried over.
"Is it for Lily?"
"Yes."
She placed the piece beside the doll.
The repair still needed to be done carefully.
But it looked possible.
I touched the little plastic hand.
"Will she look the same?"
"Almost."
I smiled.
Grandma explained that some repairs left small marks.
I looked at Lily.
"That's okay."
My aunt laughed softly.
"She'll still be Lily."
I nodded.
I liked that.
A few minutes later, Grandma's phone rang.
It was Dad.
She answered.
He wanted to know how I was doing.
Grandma said I was resting.
He asked whether I had been talking about him.
She said she wouldn't turn my private conversations into a report for him.
Dad became irritated.
"I have a right to know what's happening with my daughter."
Grandma answered calmly.
"You will receive the information you're entitled to through the proper arrangements. But she doesn't need to feel watched every time she speaks."
There was a pause.
Then Dad asked whether he could see me.
Grandma looked at me.
I shook my head.
She understood.
"She's not ready today."
Dad said something I couldn't hear.
Grandma listened.
Then she ended the call.
I looked at her.
"Will he come tomorrow?"
"I don't know."
I picked up Lily.
"Maybe I can see him one day."
Grandma nodded.
"That decision will be made carefully, with the right support."
I sat beside her.
The little replacement arm rested on the table.
For the first time, I thought about repairing something without being afraid it might break again.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: My Father Finally Admitted He Had Been Thinking About His Reputation, but Grandma Wanted Him to Understand What His Daughter Had Been Thinking About
My Father Wanted a Perfect Birthday Photograph, but He Had Forgotten That One Person in the Room Always Noticed the Things Everyone Else Ignored
Part 10 of 20
