Chapter 2 - What Michael heard first
Michael had been at work.
Thirty-seven years old.
Operations manager at a medical-equipment distributor.
My husband for eight years.
Father of both children.
And Sarah’s only son.
By the time he called me, Sarah had told him four things.
I attacked her.
I screamed at Tyler.
I canceled her surgery.
I was “holding the children behind a locked door.”
Three of those statements were misleading.
One was simply false.
Michael began with anger because anger had reached him first.
“What the hell did you do to my mother—”
I cut him off.
“Olivia is bleeding.”
Silence.
“What?”
“Your mother slapped her.”
Another silence.
Longer.
“Where?”
“Face.”
“How bad?”
“Small nosebleed. I’m taking her to urgent care.”
“What happened?”
I looked at Tyler.
He was listening.
“I’m not doing this while the kids can hear.”
Michael’s voice changed.
“Is Mom still there?”
“Outside the bedroom.”
“Put her on.”
“No.”
“Emily.”
“No.”
He exhaled.
I knew that sound.
He was trying to regain control.
Then:
“I’m coming home.”
“Good.”
I ended the call.
Sarah knocked on the bedroom door.
“Michael knows what you did!”
I said nothing.
Tyler whispered:
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Is Grandma going to jail?”
“No idea.”
“Are you?”
That hurt more.
I crouched.
“I shouldn’t have hit Grandma.”
“But she hit Olivia.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“So adults can both do wrong things.”
He looked toward his sister.
“She took my hot dog.”
There it was.
May you like
Not yet explanation.
But a beginning.
