Chapter 3 - The Room of Silence
Savannah’s first day wasn't spent in a clinic.
It was spent on the floor of the penthouse.
I watched from the doorway,
feeling like an intruder in my own home.
She had brought a bag of simple things.
A bag of dried beans.
A piece of velvet.
A small,
metal spinning top.
She didn't try to make him talk.
She didn't ask him how he felt.
She just sat there,
running her fingers through the beans,
the sound like falling rain.
Leo watched her for a long time.
Then,
with a shaking hand,
he reached into the bowl.
He let the beans slide through his fingers,
a small gasp escaping his lips.
It wasn't a word,
but it was music to me.
I tried to step into the room,
to join them.
"Leo,
is that fun?"
I asked,
my voice too loud,
too eager.
Leo immediately pulled his hand back,
the light in his eyes vanishing.
He retreated to the corner,
covering his ears.
Savannah looked at me,
her eyes stern.
"Out,"
she mouthed.
I retreated to my study,
fuming.
I was his father.
I was the provider.
Why could she reach him while I only drove him away?
I sat at my desk,
trying to focus on a merger,
but the numbers meant nothing.
I realized that for two years,
I had treated Leo like a broken machine.
I had tried to 'fix' him with money and experts.
I had never just sat on the floor with him.
I had never listened to his silence.
Hours later,
the house was quiet.
I walked back to the living room.
Savannah was gone,
but Leo was asleep on the rug.
Next to him,
she had left a trail of beans leading to his bed.
And at the end of the trail,
a new animal made of towels.
A turtle.
I sat on the floor,
May you like
miles away from my mahogany desk,
and I cried.
