Chapter 8 - My kick Cordelia’s hip was bruised.
No fracture.
No head injury.
She went to urgent care the morning after the wedding.
Then told Alaric she was considering reporting me.
I called an attorney before she could weaponize my panic.
Her name was Monica Reyes.
She listened.
Then asked:
“Was Cordelia still physically moving the wheelchair when you kicked her?”
“Yes.”
“Was your son in the chair?”
“Yes.”
“Did you believe he was at risk?”
“I believed she was physically forcing him somewhere against his wishes.”
“Did you give a warning?”
“I yelled her name and told her to let go.”
“Then?”
“She pushed again.”
The venue had exterior video.
No audio at the exact angle.
It showed:
Cordelia pushing.
Bram resisting through the brakes.
Me running.
Cordelia pushing again.
My kick.
That gave my action a stronger defense-of-child context than if I had kicked her after everything ended.
Still, Monica told me:
“Do not celebrate it.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
I told Bram the same thing.
“Mom kicked Grandma because I was angry and trying to stop what was happening.”
He said:
“She fell.”
“Yes.”
“Was that bad?”
“I wish I had stopped her without kicking.”
“Why?”
“Because adults have to control their bodies too.”
He thought.
Then:
“She should control her hands.”
May you like
“Yes.”
Children are excellent at finding the part adults hope to skip.
