PART 2
I had imagined coming home differently.
I had imagined Maya screaming my name.
I had imagined Danielle laughing because I had ruined my own surprise.
Instead, I stood in the doorway looking at my daughter’s hands.
Red.
Swollen.
Small.
I walked into the kitchen.
Slowly.
My mother stood behind me.
“Marcus.”
I ignored her.
I reached for the faucet.
The water was almost painfully hot.
I shut it off.
Then I lifted Maya from the stool.
She flinched.
Not because I hurt her.
Because I touched her unexpectedly.
That reaction nearly broke me.
“Daddy?”
“I’ve got you.”
I carried her away from the sink.
Danielle stared at me.
Her face had gone completely white.
“What happened to your wrist?” I asked.
She pulled her sleeve down.
“Nothing.”
My mother stepped closer.
“She burned herself cooking.”
I turned.
“No one asked you.”
Loretta blinked.
The room had gone silent.
Twenty guests watched us.
One woman slowly put down her fork.
My mother recovered quickly.
“Marcus, don’t come home from a trip and start making accusations.”
“I’m not making accusations.”
I looked at Maya.
“Show me your hands.”
She did.
Several fingertips were blistered.
One small patch near her thumb had peeled.
My stomach turned.
I looked at Danielle.
“Show me yours.”
She hesitated.
Then she pulled back her sleeves.
I saw two healing burns on her forearm.
A dark bruise near her elbow.
And another purple mark above her wrist.
I stopped breathing.
“Who did that?”
Danielle looked at the floor.
Loretta sighed dramatically.
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
“Your wife bruises like a peach.”
I took out my phone.
My mother laughed.
“Who are you calling?”
“911.”
The laughter died.
Loretta’s face changed.
“Marcus.”
I stepped away from her.
The dispatcher answered.
I gave our address.
Then I said something I never thought I would say about my own home.
“My wife and five-year-old daughter have injuries.”
“I believe they have been abused.”
“And the person responsible is still here.”
My mother shouted.
“You ungrateful son of a bitch.”
Several guests stood.
One woman grabbed her purse.
Another moved toward the door.
I raised my voice.
“No one leaves.”
That stopped them.
Loretta stared at me.
“You cannot imprison people in your apartment.”
“No.”
“But the police can decide who needs to stay.”
One guest whispered.
“I didn’t know anything.”
Another immediately said the same.
My mother turned toward them.
“Sit down.”
No one listened.
Danielle suddenly touched my arm.
“Marcus.”
Her voice shook.
“Please.”
I looked at her.
“Did she do this?”
Danielle’s eyes filled with tears.
Before she could answer, Maya spoke.
“Grandma says Mommy is a liar.”
Loretta snapped.
“Maya.”
My daughter immediately flinched.
That was enough.
I stepped between them.
“Do not speak to her.”
Loretta laughed once.
Coldly.
“You’re choosing that woman over your own mother?”
I looked at Danielle.
Then Maya.
“No.”
“I’m choosing my wife and daughter over the person hurting them.”
Sirens sounded outside.
Loretta’s confidence disappeared.
