Chapter 9 - MY OWN FAILUREI wanted to make Michael and Linda the entire story.
Then Emma’s therapist asked me a question.
“When did Emma first tell you she disliked Grandma’s special lemonade?”
I froze.
Because I remembered.
September.
School had started.
Emma came home from Linda’s.
I was cooking.
She said:
“Grandma’s lemonade tastes gross.”
I said:
“Then ask for water.”
“She says I need it.”
“For what?”
“My nerves.”
I had laughed.
Not cruelly.
Distracted.
I said:
“Grandma thinks tea fixes everything.”
Emma frowned.
“It’s not tea.”
Then Noah spilled pasta sauce.
The conversation ended.
Later, I forgot.
That fact did not make me responsible for Linda putting anything dangerous in a drink.
It did mean Emma had tried to tell me something months earlier.
I had converted it into a joke because the adult involved was trustworthy.
I wrote the memory down and gave it to Detective Ellis.
May you like
No polishing.
No excuse.
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