Chương 9
“It always had something to do with me.”
Gloria stared at him.
Ethan had not planned to say any of this.
His heart was beating too fast.
“You’d say things, then when I got upset, you’d explain what you meant until I felt stupid for hearing what you actually said.”
Gloria’s face hardened.
“So this is about your childhood now?”
“No.”
“It sounds like it.”
“It’s about why I keep giving you the benefit of the doubt after everybody else runs out.”
She stood.
“I did not ask you to protect me.”
“Yes, you did.”
“When?”
“My whole life.”
“That is incredibly unfair.”
“I know.”
The answer stopped her.
Ethan stood too.
“I know it’s unfair.”
He looked around the kitchen.
“You loved Dad. You took care of him. You took care of us. You worked when he got laid off. You drove Claire to every stupid dance competition. You sat with me in the ER when I broke my wrist and yelled at the doctor because you thought he was ignoring me.”
Gloria’s mouth trembled.
“You are not only the worst thing you did.”
She started crying.
Ethan’s voice broke once.
“But Maya still hit the ground.”
Gloria covered her mouth.
For a long time, nothing moved except her shoulders.
When she finally spoke, her voice was rough.
“I hated her in that moment.”
Ethan went still.
Gloria lowered her hand.
“I need you to know that.”
He stared at her.
“I didn’t want to hurt the baby. I didn’t even think she’d fall. But I hated her.”
The words seemed to frighten Gloria after she said them.
“She looked at me like I was this pathetic old woman who couldn’t understand the word no.”
Ethan said nothing.
“And maybe I was.”
She sat again.
“I kept thinking she was taking you away.”
“No one took me.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I’m trying to.”
Ethan looked at his mother.
This was the confession he had thought he wanted.
It did not make anything easier.
He wished she had denied everything.
He wished the video had shown obvious cruelty with no hesitation and no history.
He wished Maya had never met her.
He wished his father were alive.
He wished, absurdly, that the table did not have the burn mark.
“I’m going to give the police anything they ask for,” he said.
Gloria nodded.
“I know.”
“If there are legal consequences, I’m not going to interfere.”
Another nod.
“And you cannot contact Maya.”
Gloria’s eyes closed.
“Can I write her a letter?”
“No.”
“What if I don’t send it?”
“That’s called a diary.”
To his horror, Gloria laughed.
One broken sound.
Ethan did too.
It lasted less than a second.
Then they both looked ashamed.
Human beings were disgusting like that, Ethan thought. A life could be falling apart and somebody would still make a joke.
Gloria wiped her face.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Can I contact you?”
Ethan looked at the photograph on the refrigerator again.
“I don’t know.”
Gloria nodded.
That hurt more than if she had argued.
At the door, she said, “Tell Maya I’m sorry.”
Ethan turned.
“No.”
Gloria stared at him.
“You can tell her yourself someday if she wants to hear it.”
He drove home with the radio off.
When he told Maya about the conversation, she listened without interrupting until he repeated Gloria’s sentence.
I hated her in that moment.
Maya looked toward the porch.
“She said that?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the first thing she’s said that I believe completely.”
Ethan sat beside her.
Maya folded one leg beneath herself.
“Does it make you feel better?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
He looked at her.
“I thought it might.”
“That’s because you keep expecting truth to feel good.”
He almost argued.
Then he smiled faintly.
“Do I?”
“Yes. It’s one of your more irritating qualities.”
“What are the others?”
“We don’t have that kind of time.”
He laughed.
Maya did not.
A moment later, she did.
The police investigation did not move at the speed any of them expected.
Days passed.
Then a week.
An investigator asked follow-up questions. Ethan sent the full-resolution copies again after the first transfer had compressed the files more than expected. Linda gave a statement about seeing Gloria’s car leave and finding Maya on the walkway.
No dramatic arrest happened.
No squad car appeared at Gloria’s house while neighbors watched.
The ordinary pace of procedure felt insulting to Maya at first.
Then, gradually, it felt stabilizing.
The world was not rearranging itself around their family crisis.
Other people had cases.
Other people were injured.
Forms were completed.
Calls were returned late.
A detective mispronounced Maya’s last name even though it was Bennett.
Life remained annoyingly procedural.
Meanwhile, Gloria hired an attorney.
Claire told Ethan this in a four-word text.
MOM GOT A LAWYER.
Ethan replied:
SHE SHOULD.
Claire did not answer for two days.
Then:
I KNOW.
The family split, but not neatly.
Aunt Lorraine thought Gloria should apologize and “everybody should avoid courts if possible.”
A cousin said nobody had the right to tell grandparents they could not see grandchildren.
Another cousin privately messaged Ethan to say Gloria had grabbed her once at a Christmas party years earlier after drinking too much wine.
Ethan asked if she wanted to tell investigators.
She immediately said no.
He did not pressure her.
That mattered too.
Not every witness became useful just because the truth needed help.
Maya returned to work remotely after five days.
She worked in operations for a regional architecture firm, a job requiring her to solve problems created by people who insisted they had followed instructions.
Usually she liked it.
That week, every disagreement sounded like an accusation.
Her supervisor, Dean, asked if she wanted more time off.
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“You know we can rearrange deadlines.”
“I know.”
“Because you’ve answered nine emails since seven this morning.”
“Ten.”
“Maya.”
She leaned back from her laptop.
Dean waited.
May you like
She rubbed her forehead.
“If I stop moving, I think.”
