Page 34 of Love Unwritten
I’ve never hated myself more. “None of this is your fault. Not a single thing, you hear me?”
His grip on the paper tightens. “Yes, it is. She wanted to tell you, but I made her stay quiet.”
It hits me just then that I will never win this battle against my son, no matter what I say or how many times I try to reassure him. I can’t expect an emotionally invested eight-year-old kid to understand my logic, so he and I can go back and forth for days—hell, maybe even weeks or months—and Nico will always blame himself for what happened with Ellie.
I’m sure if I were in his position, I’d do the same.
I need to put my trust issues aside and learn to forgive Ellie, or I can continue fighting my son on this issue, knowing I’m only hurting him more in the process.
It will be hard for me, but I’m going to try to give Ellie a second chance for Nico’s sake since he is all that matters.
My only problem?
She might not want to come back.
Later that night, once Nico goes to bed, I pull up Ellie’s contact information and give her a call. The ringing goes on for what feels like forever, only to be cut off abruptly by a generic voicemail system.
Instead of leaving a message with all my jumbled thoughts, I text her instead.
ME
Hey. Can we talk?
It feels like five hours before I get a response when it was really only five minutes.
ELEANOR (NANNY)
We don’t have anything to talk about, so please delete my number.
I don’t bother playing mind games by waiting her out.
ME
It’s about Nico. He’s not doing well.
Ellie’s name flashes across my screen, and I answer immediately.
“Is he okay? Did the ophthalmologist have an update?” Her concern seems genuine, which only makes me feel more guilty. Regardless of my personal feelings toward Ellie, she cares about Nico even when it isn’t a job requirement anymore, and that’s the kind of loyalty money can’t buy.
I would know, seeing as I pay his mother hundreds of thousands of dollars, and she can’t be bothered to fulfill her part of the custody agreement.
“He’s fine, and no.”
“Did he see his doctor yet?”
“Not yet. The soonest we could get an appointment was tomorrow.”
Her exhale makes the speaker crackle. “That’s good. Are you keeping his chin clean?”
“Yes.”
“And are you washing it twice a day?”
I don’t notice the small smile on my face until it’s too late. “I’ve been triple-washing it every day since he’s a messy eater.”
“Even better. And you’re not using hydrogen peroxide or alcohol, right? That’s bad for stitches.”
“Yes.”