Chapter 2 - WHY CLARA HADN’T CALLED ME
I took Clara and Toby upstairs before anyone could turn the moment into an argument.
Our bedroom door was locked.
I stared at it.
Clara reached into the pocket of her cardigan and produced no key.
“Your dad has it.”
I turned around.
“Why?”
She looked ashamed to answer.
Richard and Evelyn had arrived three days earlier.
I had invited them.
That was the part I couldn't escape.
Clara's pregnancy had become physically difficult during the final month, and I was going to Chicago for a contract negotiation that could determine whether ColeShield Cybersecurity hired thirty new employees or froze expansion.
My parents had offered to stay.
Natalie came with them.
I had called it perfect timing.
The first night, Richard said his back couldn't tolerate the guest-room mattress.
My parents moved into our bedroom.
Natalie took the guest room.
Toby stayed in his own room.
Clara slept on the downstairs couch.
The next day, Natalie complained that Toby woke her too early, so Evelyn decided mother and son should “stay together downstairs.”
By evening, the couch cushions had been removed because Richard didn't want food smells in the living room.
That was how my pregnant wife and son ended up sleeping beside the pantry on blankets.
“Why didn't you call me?”
Clara looked at the floor.
“I tried.”
My stomach tightened.
She had called Tuesday afternoon.
I remembered.
I had been walking into the negotiation.
My father had taken the phone from her and told me Clara was napping.
Later, Natalie texted that Clara was emotional but fine.
I never called Clara directly that night.
I had sent:
Big day tomorrow. Love you. Sleep well.
Clara showed me her phone.
The screen was cracked.
“Natalie grabbed it when I told her I was taking Toby to Melissa's house.”
Melissa was Clara's older sister.
“She said you told them nobody was leaving until you came home.”
“I never said that.”
“I know that now.”
Her voice broke.
I gently touched her wrist.
“What happened here?”
“Natalie took my car keys. I tried to take them back.”
I stood.
Clara caught my sleeve.
“Andrew, don't hit anybody.”
The fact that she thought she needed to say it stopped me.
I crouched again.
“I won't.”
Then Toby asked, “Are Grandma and Grandpa still staying?”
I looked toward the hallway.
“No.”
Downstairs, my father was already on the phone.
I could hear him saying my name.
I walked to the top of the stairs.
Richard looked up at me.
“We need to talk before you do something stupid.”
I had spent thirty-four years reacting to that voice.
May you like
That afternoon, I didn't.
I simply asked:
