Chapter 9 - Last Winter
Daniel tried to turn the screen away. I saw his hand move and felt more betrayed by that little instinct than by the threat itself.
"What happened last winter?" I asked.
"Nothing like what she's making it sound."
"That's not an answer."
He sat beside my bed and told me how Beatriz had called him during a shift, claiming I had left Alma home alone. He'd driven forty minutes in a panic and found Alma playing at Ruth's, exactly where I'd said she would be. I'd been at the pharmacy, picking up antibiotics for him.
"I yelled at you," Daniel said. "I accused you of lying. Later Mom admitted she'd mixed up the times."
I remembered. I had cried in the pantry so Alma wouldn't hear. Daniel had apologized with grocery-store roses. He hadn't asked his mother to apologize at all.
"She saved the messages," he said. "She can make it look like I thought you were neglecting Alma."
"You did think that. You told me so."
"I was wrong."
"You don't get to erase being wrong because you're frightened of how it looks."
Daniel pressed his palms to his eyes. "Tell me what to do."
"Don't ask me to manage your guilt while I'm lying in a hospital bed."
The silence afterward was painful but honest. For the first time, he didn't defend his mother. He showed me the group chat, including messages he had sent defending me, and asked if he could forward them to a lawyer I chose.
That afternoon Ruth brought Alma to the hospital for a short visit. My daughter held my hand without touching any of the tubes.
"I told Grandma you were hurting," she whispered. "She told me grown-ups know when somebody is pretending."
"You did the right thing," I told her.
May you like
Alma reached inside her backpack and handed me a folded yellow paper. It was a note I'd written to her teacher three days earlier, asking whether she had seemed anxious at school. Across the bottom, in Beatriz's handwriting, were three words that made my stomach turn.
DO NOT CONTACT MARIANA.
