His mother called him back before he reached the curb.
The ordinary caution of a parent made me think about all the risks I could never completely remove from Maya’s life.
I could teach her to look both ways.
I could install lights and locks.
I could not guarantee that every driver would stop after an accident or every neighbor would respect a boundary.
The realization was frightening, but it also released me from a promise no parent could keep.
That evening Maya asked whether the legal process would make Gwen apologize.
“It might lead to accountability,” I said.
“An apology is something she would have to choose honestly.”
“What if she never does?”
“Then we still have the right to repair our home and move forward.”
Maya considered that before returning to her homework.
I was still learning to believe it myself.
The first Saturday in January arrived clear and cold.
Maya and I loaded our bicycles into Ian’s truck and drove to a park with a protected loop around a small lake.
I had practiced enough in the driveway to stay upright without embarrassing myself immediately.
Maya wore a yellow jacket and the new helmet I had bought for her birthday.
She checked the straps on both our helmets before we started.
“You know you don’t have to supervise me,” I said.
“Someone has to,” she replied.
We rode slowly past bare trees and benches covered with frost.
At first Maya kept looking over her shoulder whenever a car passed on the nearby road.
I noticed but said nothing.
After the second lap she began talking about a class project involving water quality in local streams.
She wanted to test samples from three parks and compare the results with historical data.
I asked whether she needed help buying supplies.
“Mostly I need someone to drive,” she said.
I agreed.
On the third lap I stopped beside the lake to catch my breath.
Maya circled back and laughed at me.
“You’re really out of shape.”
“You have discovered a scientific fact,” I replied.
We sat on a bench and watched geese move through the shallow water.
Maya admitted she had been afraid the ride would bring back every image of Lena’s accident.
“Some of it did,” she said.
“But not all of it.”
I told her recovery often involved learning that one frightening memory did not have to occupy every similar place.
She thought for a while.
