her not to care what people
thought.”
“That sounds like something both of us said.”
“I know.”
He dried a plate.
“But I cared what people thought.”
I looked at him.
“At pools, I watched people staring.
At restaurants, I noticed.
Sometimes I stared back until they stopped.”
“So did I.”
“Exactly.”
He set the plate down.
“We were telling her not to care while showing her with our faces that
there was something to defend.”
That hurt because it was partly true.
We had loved her fiercely.
But fierce protection can accidentally teach a child that danger is
everywhere.
The next week, we talked with Maya.
Not to apologize for protecting her.
To acknowledge that sometimes our anxiety had become another mirror she
was forced to look into.
Maya listened.
Then she said:
“You guys were kind of intense.”
Noah laughed.
“Kind of?”
“Dad, you once followed a woman
