Chapter 13 - THE FAMILY THAT DIDN’T NEED ONE LAST NAME
By summer, I had two bedrooms.
One at Daniel’s apartment.
One at Dominic’s house.
My blue room with yellow stars stayed exactly the same.
Daniel’s apartment had butterfly curtains.
He bought them without asking.
I made him return them.
“Too babyish.”
He looked devastated.
We chose dark blue curtains together.
Parenting lesson one.
Ask.
Dominic learned too.
He stopped having staff move my chair without permission.
One guard did it once.
Dominic corrected him.
I corrected Dominic.
“You don’t have to scare him.”
He sighed.
“Right.”
Progress.
Daniel went to therapy.
Dominic did too.
He hated it.
His therapist apparently asked about feelings.
Very suspicious.
Victor testified against Hart and Mercer.
He lost business holdings and accepted a plea involving financial crimes.
He wrote me letters from supervised residence.
I answered one.
Not because I had to.
Because he sent me a butterfly sticker.
Mara testified.
Elizabeth moved back to New York.
Grandma spoiled me badly.
She pretended she didn’t.
She absolutely did.
Lucy visited every Saturday.
St. Jude’s art room opened in September.
They named it after Sofia.
Not me.
My request.
THE SOFIA HARPER ART ROOM.
I wanted Mommy’s name somewhere children made beautiful things.
Then Dominic showed me something.
An old sketchbook.
Sofia’s.
Butterflies everywhere.
One page had a wheelchair.
Not mine.
A design.
Sofia had once studied industrial design.
She wanted to create adjustable mobility equipment for children.
I stared.
“Mommy drew wheelchairs?”
“Yes.”
“Cool ones.”
“Yes.”
One had stars on the wheels.
I laughed.
“Like mine.”
Dominic looked at me.
“She would have loved you.”
I hugged the sketchbook.
Then he said:
“We could fund this.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“Her designs.”
Dominic wanted to create a nonprofit mobility lab.
I immediately became suspicious.
“Do I have to be the poster girl?”
He blinked.
“No.”
“Good.”
“I was going to ask what you wanted.”
“Good.”
We created the Sofia Mobility Project with engineers, wheelchair users, therapists, and parents.
Important rule:
No designing equipment without disabled kids actually testing and choosing features.
Dominic called that “obvious.”
The engineers laughed.
Apparently not always.
Then Daniel received a letter.
No return address.
Inside:
A photograph of Sofia holding newborn me.
On the back:
SHE DIDN’T DIE BEFORE TELLING SOMEONE THE FATHER’S SECRET.
Daniel frowned.
“What father’s secret?”
Not his.
The handwriting said:
VITTORIO MORETTI.
Dominic’s father.
My grandfather’s brother.
May you like
The old patriarch.
And Sofia apparently learned something about him before she died.
