Chương 10
By evening, Sarah’s work email had received messages accusing her of abusing military training.
Another claimed she should be fired.
One contained her home address.
Security extended remote work.
Lily’s school called.
Three students had shown her the fight video at lunch.
Sarah picked her up early.
Lily got into the car and slammed the door.
“They said you’re psycho.”
Sarah put the car in drive.
“Kids repeat things.”
“I punched Noah Patterson.”
Sarah stopped.
“What?”
“Not hard.”
“Lily.”
“He said you tried to kill Uncle Marcus.”
“So you hit him?”
“He wouldn’t stop.”
Sarah pulled back into the parking space.
She turned off the car.
Lily stared ahead.
“Look at me.”
“No.”
“Lily.”
Her daughter’s jaw trembled.
“He said you were a freak.”
Sarah waited.
“He said Aunt Rachel was scared of you.”
Sarah took a slow breath.
“Did Noah hit you first?”
“No.”
“Threaten you?”
“No.”
“Then you don’t hit him.”
“But he was lying.”
“That does not matter.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Not enough to punch him.”
Lily finally looked at her.
Anger and humiliation had made her face blotchy.
“You punched Uncle Marcus.”
“No.”
“You threw him.”
“After he tried to hit me.”
“So I have to wait until someone hits me?”
“You have to learn the difference between danger and anger.”
Lily’s eyes filled.
“You’re such a hypocrite.”
Sarah flinched.
Lily opened the door.
“Close it.”
“I want Dad.”
The sentence landed differently.
Lily’s father lived in Colorado.
He and Sarah had divorced six years earlier with less hatred than exhaustion. Ben was a decent man and a mediocre husband. Sarah had been a decent wife in the years she was physically present and an impossible one in the years she was not.
Lily visited him summers and alternating holidays.
She had never once asked for him during an argument with Sarah.
“Okay,” Sarah said.
Lily looked startled.
“You can call him.”
“I want to go there.”
Sarah’s throat tightened.
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“School is here.”
“I hate school.”
“You liked school four hours ago.”
“I hate it now.”
Sarah looked through the windshield.
Parents crossed the parking lot carrying backpacks and art projects.
A boy dragged a violin case behind him.
Ordinary life again.
Always nearby.
“We’ll talk tonight.”
“That means no.”
“It means I’m not making a custody decision while we’re both angry.”
Lily folded her arms.
“I’m not angry.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow.
“Shut up.”
The words came out before Lily could stop them.
They both froze.
Lily’s face changed immediately.
Sarah’s patience broke.
“Do not speak to me like that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You do not get to hit somebody because they insulted me and then tell me to shut up because I won’t praise you for it.”
“I said sorry.”
“And I heard you.”
“Why are you yelling?”
Sarah stopped.
She was yelling.
Not screaming.
But louder than Lily had probably heard in years.
Sarah put both hands on the steering wheel.
Her pulse pounded in her neck.
Lily shrank toward the passenger door.
That image hurt.
Sarah closed her eyes.
When she spoke again, her voice was lower.
“I’m angry.”
Lily said nothing.
“I’m angry at Marcus. I’m angry at Warren. I’m angry at strangers. I’m angry at myself. And I just handed some of it to you.”
Lily wiped her cheek.
Sarah continued.
“You still don’t get to hit Noah.”
“I know.”
“And you still don’t get to tell me to shut up.”
“I know.”
Sarah nodded.
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
Lily stared at her knees.
“You scare me more when you don’t look mad.”
That stayed with Sarah.
That night she called Ben.
He answered from a grocery store.
“You’re famous.”
“Apparently.”
“I told my girlfriend I knew you could do that.”
“Ben.”
“I said could, not would.”
“Lily wants to come to Colorado.”
His tone changed.
“Why?”
Sarah told him.
All of it.
Even the part where Lily punched another student.
Ben listened without interrupting.
That was new.
Marriage had improved them both mainly by ending.
When Sarah finished, he said, “Send her.”
“You think?”
“I think she needs somewhere nobody has seen the video.”
“They’ll see it there too.”
“Not everyone lives online.”
“Your girlfriend does.”
“She sells handmade candles.”
“She posted a dance while packing orders.”
“It had four hundred views, Sarah. Calm down.”
“I am calm.”
“Yeah, that’s historically your problem.”
She almost hung up.
Ben sighed.
“Sorry.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“A little.”
Sarah sat at the kitchen table.
“Do you think I’m making this worse?”
“Yes.”
The speed of the answer irritated her.
“How?”
“You’re treating it like an operation.”
“It is not an operation.”
“Exactly.”
She waited.
Ben continued.
“You’re securing the perimeter. Controlling information. Managing threats. Finding legal counsel. Great. But Lily doesn’t need a security plan from you.”
“What does she need?”
“Her mom.”
Sarah looked at the empty chair across from her.
“I am her mom.”
“You know what I mean.”
She did.
That was why she disliked him.
Ben said, “Send her for a week.”
“School.”
“I’ll coordinate assignments.”
“Your work?”
“I work from home.”
“Soccer?”
“She can miss practice.”
“She’ll fall behind.”
“Sarah.”
She rubbed her forehead.
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“Try harder.”
Lily flew to Denver two days later.
Sarah watched her disappear into the secured gate area under airline supervision and felt as if she had failed a test nobody had told her she was taking.
When she returned home, the house was painfully clean.
No backpack by the stairs.
No half-filled water glass on the bathroom counter.
No music leaking through a bedroom door.
She stood in Lily’s room longer than necessary.
On the desk lay a piece of notebook paper.
Lily had written three questions.
How many people did you kill?
Why did you stop being a soldier?
Why didn’t you tell me?
The first question had been crossed out.
Below it she had written:
May you like
Do you miss it?
Sarah sat on the bed.
