For a moment, I could not move.
Daniel was standing only a few feet away.
The football announcer shouted something from the television, followed by canned applause.
It was an absurdly ordinary sound for a moment that had just split my life in two.
I looked at my mother.
“You said Daniel.”
She closed her eyes.
“I know what I said.”
Daniel's face had gone pale.
“Margaret, that's not fair.”
My mother opened her eyes.
“You grabbed me.”
“I was angry.”
“You grabbed me.”
He shook his head.
“It wasn't like that.”
I felt something inside me go completely still.
There are moments when anger becomes too large to feel all at once.
This was one of them.
I turned toward him.
“What happened?”
He took a step closer.
“Your mother was refusing to leave the bathroom.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“She kept arguing with Mom.”
Patricia folded her arms.
“She was disrespectful.”
My mother looked down at the table.
I asked, “Why was Mom in the bathroom?”
Patricia answered.
“The toilet was filthy.”
My mother gave a small, humorless laugh.
“I had already cleaned it twice.”
I looked at Patricia.
“You made her clean it?”
“She was staying here.”
“She was visiting.”
“She was eating our food.”
I almost didn't understand the sentence.
“Our food?”
Patricia shook her head.
“Your mother has always been difficult.”
My mother's eyes filled with tears.
I moved beside her.
“You don't have to explain anything to her.”
Patricia's voice sharpened.
“She should be grateful we let her stay.”
I turned slowly.
“Let her stay?”
Daniel interrupted.
“Enough.”
I looked at him.
“Did you hear what she just said?”
“Yes.”
“And you still haven't told her to stop.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I didn't think it was going to become this.”
“What did you think it was going to become?”
Silence.
That silence told me more than his words could have.
I helped my mother stand.
Her knees trembled.
“I'll take you home.”
“No,” Daniel said.
I stopped.
“Excuse me?”
“She can't go tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because it's late.”
I glanced at the clock.
It was just after six.
“It's not late.”
“She shouldn't drive.”
“I'll drive her.”
“Laura, please.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“You're upset.”
“I should be.”
“You're making decisions you might regret.”
I looked at him.
“That's interesting.”
“What?”
“You're worried about my decisions.”
He didn't answer.
My mother squeezed my arm.
“Laura, there is something else.”
I turned.
She looked at Daniel.
Then at Patricia.
Finally she reached into the pocket of her cardigan and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
It was wrinkled and stained.
“What is that?”
She handed it to me.
I unfolded it.
At the top was my name.
Underneath were handwritten instructions.
Clean downstairs bathroom.
Prepare breakfast.
Laundry.
Children's meals.
Do not enter Patricia's bedroom.
Do not use the upstairs bathroom.
Do not complain to Laura.
I read the last line twice.
Do not complain to Laura.
My fingers tightened around the paper.
“Who wrote this?”
My mother didn't answer.
Daniel did.
“My mother was trying to keep things organized.”
I looked at him.
“Why was my mother being given chores?”
“She offered to help.”
“This isn't help.”
I held up the paper.
“This is a list.”
Patricia snatched it from my hand.
“You're twisting everything.”
I took it back.
“Don't touch me.”
Her face flushed.
“You've become very disrespectful.”
“And you've become comfortable in my house.”
Daniel stepped between us.
“Stop.”
I looked at him.
“No. You stop.”
My voice was quiet.
That seemed to frighten him more than shouting would have.
I took my mother's coat from the hook.
“Come on.”
Daniel followed us toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To a hotel.”
“You're not taking the children.”
I froze.
Then I turned.
“What did you say?”
“I said the children stay here tonight.”
Emma and Ethan appeared halfway down the stairs.
They had heard him.
Emma's face crumpled.
“No.”
I walked toward them.
Daniel blocked the bottom step.
“Laura, think.”
“I am thinking.”
“It's Thanksgiving.”
“Exactly.”
“You can't just take them.”
“They're my children.”
“They're ours.”
I stared at him.
“Then act like their father.”
His jaw tightened.
My mother stepped beside me.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“Don't make me call the police.”
My entire body went cold.
He had never threatened that before.
Not once in eleven years.
I looked at him for several seconds.
Then I said, “Call them.”
He blinked.
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
No one moved.
Finally, Patricia said, “Daniel, don't.”
I looked at her.
That was the first time I saw fear on her face.
Not anger.
Fear.
I filed that away.
Daniel stepped aside.
I took the children upstairs.
They packed almost nothing.
Emma grabbed her stuffed rabbit.
Ethan carried his small backpack.
Neither asked where we were going.
They simply followed me.
Before leaving, I returned to the kitchen.
My mother was waiting.
I handed her the keys to my car.
“You're driving.”
She looked surprised.
“I thought you were taking me.”
“I am.”
I picked up my phone.
“But first, we're going somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“To see a doctor.”
She immediately shook her head.
“No.”
“Mom.”
“Please.”
I looked at her bruised wrist.
“You don't get to protect me from this.”
Her eyes filled.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
She looked over my shoulder.
Daniel stood in the hallway.
My mother lowered her voice.
“From what your husband has been planning.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: My Mother Revealed the Secret She Had Been Hiding, and I Finally Understood Why Everyone Wanted Me Home Before Thanksgiving
I Came Home Three Hours Early and Found My Mother on Her Knees, While Everyone Else Pretended Nothing Was Wrong
Part 2 of 12
