Chapter 12 - Amy Packs a Bag
That evening, I came home to a suitcase on the bed.
My heart stopped.
Amy was folding Frederick’s clothes.
“What are you doing?”
She did not look at me.
“I’m going to stay with my sister for a few days.”
“Why?”
She finally faced me.
“Because I’m tired.”
“We can fix this.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t leave.”
Her eyes filled.
“This isn’t me leaving you.”
I sat on the edge of the bed.
“Then what is it?”
“I need one room where your mother hasn’t screamed at me.”
The sentence destroyed every argument I had.
Amy continued.
“I need one night where I don’t wonder if someone is taking pictures of my kitchen.”
I looked away.
“I need to sleep without checking the locks.”
“I changed them.”
“I know.”
“I installed cameras.”
“I know.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know, Connor.”
Her voice softened.
“That’s why I’m not angry at you right now.”
That somehow hurt more.
She sat beside me.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“But your mother spent months making me feel like a guest in my own marriage.”
I could not deny it.
“And every time I told myself it wasn’t that bad, she pushed a little further.”
I took her hand.
“What do you need from me?”
“Finish this.”
I nodded.
“I will.”
“No.”
She squeezed my fingers.
“Don’t finish it because you want everyone to stop fighting.”
I looked at her.
“Finish it because you finally understand what she did.”
I did.
Amy took Frederick to her sister’s house that night.
Our home became silent.
The high chair still had one blue birthday ribbon tied around the back.
The cake I had brought Friday sat untouched in the refrigerator.
The blue dress for Amy remained inside its shopping bag.
The small pendant with Frederick’s initial was still in my desk drawer.
Everything I had expected that birthday to be had been buried beneath Teresa’s cruelty.
At midnight, my doorbell camera alerted me.
My mother stood outside.
Alone.
I spoke through the speaker.
“You need to leave.”
“Connor, please.”
Her voice sounded weak.
“I have nowhere else to go.”
That sentence surprised me.
“What happened?”
“Raymond left.”
I said nothing.
“He took money from me.”
“How much?”
“All of it.”
I almost opened the door.
Then I remembered Amy’s words.
Stay here when your mother starts crying.
Teresa wiped her face.
“I’m your mother.”
“Yes.”
“You would leave me outside?”
“You have a home.”
“I can’t go back there.”
“Why?”
Her face changed.
Then I understood.
Raymond had not simply taken money.
“He mortgaged your house too?”
Teresa began sobbing.
May you like
And for one dangerous second, every instinct I had since childhood told me to rescue her.
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