Chapter 10 - No Retakes
The first supervised meeting took place in Dr. Price’s office.
No phones were allowed in the room.
Madison arrived twenty minutes early.
She sat with both hands folded around a paper cup she never drank from.
When Ava entered with David, Madison stood automatically.
Then stopped herself from rushing forward.
“Hi.”
Ava stayed close to her father.
“Hi.”
Dr. Price gave Ava the choice of where everyone sat.
Ava selected the rug.
So they sat on the rug.
Madison wore jeans and a plain gray sweater.
No coordinated colors.
No styled hair.
Ava noticed.
“You look different.”
Madison smiled carefully.
“I probably do.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t dress for a video.”
Ava absorbed this.
Then she looked directly at Madison.
“My regular smile isn’t ugly.”
Madison’s eyes immediately filled.
“No.”
“You said my nose looked funny.”
Madison closed her eyes briefly.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I was wrong.”
Ava frowned.
Adults rarely gave answers that simple.
Madison continued.
“I was thinking about pictures instead of thinking about you.”
“Do you like my camera smile?”
Madison swallowed.
“I like your face.”
“Which one?”
“All of them.”
Ava looked suspicious.
Madison understood why.
So she corrected herself.
“But you don’t have to smile for me at all.”
Ava’s shoulders lowered slightly.
Dr. Price remained quiet.
Madison did not apologize in a speech.
She had rehearsed one.
Her therapist told her not to use it.
Children should not have to comfort adults through adult guilt.
So Madison answered questions.
“Why couldn’t I have cake?”
“Because I cared too much about the video.”
“Was I too fat?”
David’s face changed.
Madison looked horrified.
“No.”
“Then why did you say puffy?”
“Because I was being controlling about how you looked on camera.”
“What is controlling?”
Madison glanced toward Dr. Price.
The therapist said, “You can explain.”
“It means I was trying to decide things about you that should not have mattered.”
Ava looked at her hands.
“Do you still have Purple Bunny?”
“Yes.”
“Did you bring him?”
“He’s outside with Dr. Price’s assistant because I didn’t know if giving you presents today was okay.”
That was the correct answer.
Dr. Price nodded.
Ava said, “I want him.”
Madison’s mouth trembled.
A minute later Purple Bunny was back in Ava’s lap.
The toy was faded and missing one plastic eye.
Ava hugged it.
Madison watched.
No camera.
No sponsor.
No proof for anyone else that the moment had happened.
For perhaps the first time in years, Madison let a beautiful moment disappear into memory.
Then Ava asked the hardest question.
“Do you love the people in the phone more than me?”
Madison’s face collapsed.
David looked toward Dr. Price.
She did not intervene.
Madison answered slowly.
“No.”
Ava waited.
Madison knew that was not enough.
“But sometimes I acted like what they thought mattered more than how you felt.”
“Why?”
“Because when they liked me, I felt important.”
“Was I not important?”
“You were.”
“Then why?”
Madison breathed.
“Because grown-ups can know something and still make bad choices.”
Ava considered this.
Then said, “Daddy does that.”
David almost laughed.
Dr. Price covered a smile.
“Yes,” Madison whispered. “He does.”
David said, “Accurate.”
Ava hugged Purple Bunny.
The tension eased.
The meeting lasted thirty-six minutes.
Ava decided when it ended.
Outside, Madison and David stood several feet apart.
“You look tired,” he said.
“So do you.”
Neither knew how to talk like spouses anymore.
Madison looked through the window at Ava and Carol.
“I filed because I don’t think we come back from this.”
David nodded.
“I know.”
“I’m not asking for the house.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not asking for the channels.”
“Good.”
“I want whatever is left from BrightHouse to go toward Ava.”
David looked at her.
“You need money to live too.”
“I’ll work.”
“At what?”
A faint smile.
“I used to organize events before the internet decided I was inspirational.”
He remembered.
She had been good at it.
Madison grew serious.
“I’m not giving away everything to punish myself.”
“Good.”
“I’m doing it because we built too much of our life on her.”
“We did.”
Madison looked at him.
The shared pronoun mattered.
“Thank you for saying that.”
“It doesn’t reduce what you did.”
“I know.”
“And what I did doesn’t reduce yours.”
“I know.”
For once, accountability did not become a competition.
That evening, Ava asked for another cupcake.
Carol said there were none.
Ava looked horrified.
“You ate them?”
Carol laughed.
“I am a criminal.”
They baked a cake together.
It leaned badly to one side.
The frosting tore crumbs from the surface.
Ava decorated it with seven strawberries even though she was six.
David asked why.
“Seven looks better.”
“Your birthday has six candles.”
“I know.”
“So why seven strawberries?”
Ava shrugged.
“Because I want seven.”
David smiled.
No correction.
No brand guideline.
No retake.
His phone stayed in the drawer.
Halfway through eating, Ava said, “Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you take a picture?”
He looked at her.
“You sure?”
She nodded.
“But only one.”
“One.”
“And don’t show people.”
“I won’t.”
Ava held up her fork.
Frosting covered one cheek.
Purple Bunny sat beside her.
David took one photograph.
He checked it.
Ava asked, “Is it good?”
He turned the screen toward her.
Her eyes were half closed.
Carol was blurred in the background.
The cake looked terrible.
David smiled.
“It’s perfect.”
Ava studied it.
Then corrected him.
“No.”
David waited.
She pointed at her face.
“It’s just me.”
May you like
And for the first time, he understood the difference.
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