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11.

“You didn’t like how Stella was changing,” says Dr. Beaufort.

It’s only half past two, but outside the window, light leaches from the winter sky. After this morning’s session, Rosemary, the director here, showed up to tell me about all the therapeutic activities available for the afternoon. But I’m not going to waste time doing restorative yoga or basket weaving when I need to convince Dr. Beaufort of the truth. So far, I fear I haven’t been doing very well, so I asked for this second session.

“I’m fine with Stella changing,” I explain. “But this change didn’t feel like her.”

Dr. Beaufort puts her head on one side. “Stella was starting to fit in.” She pauses. “But that was difficult for you.”

“I longed for her to fit in. I was terrified of her being alone. I dreamed of watching her turn a cartwheel on the beach, of plaiting her hair.” I press my good hand to my mouth. I’ve never admitted this before. “I just don’t want her to fit in at the expense of losing herself.”

Dr. Beaufort shrugs. “Children are always changing, no? When we’re talking about a child, a person still in the process of becoming, it’s hard to say definitively what their essential nature is.”

My bad hand throbs. I get what she’s saying. Common sense says that this new Stella is the real Stella. The girl who burned so brightly, my curious, playful, brilliant girl— that girl was merely a phase, and this dull, stolid person is her true self.

On the night of Stella’s birth, I smelled the secret sweetness at the heart of everything and thought then that even if she became a serial killer, I would love her. I can’t let my love waver now simply because her spark has gone out.

I cradle the hand in my lap. Maybe it is infected, and if so, I deserve it. I need to do better. But I feel so weary. I slump back against Dr. Beaufort’s sofa cushions and pull her nubbly throw over myself. I made a promise that I would do anything for Stella. I would fling myself under a train. But that sacrifice, over in a moment, would be so much easier than having my child turn into someone I don’t recognize.