Chapter 5: The Call She Shouldn't Have Made
Daniel looked at the phone.
Then at me.
I didn't tell him what to do.
That had to be his choice.
He picked it up and put it on speaker.
"Daniel." Patricia's voice was composed.
Warm, even.
Like the dinner hadn't happened.
"I want to apologize for the tension tonight.
Things got out of hand and I think some very unfair accusations were made."
"Mia told me she was told to stay in the garage," Daniel said.
"She told me she was told not to tell her mother."
A brief pause.
"She's six years old, sweetheart.
Children misremember things.
They confuse instructions.
I probably said something like 'wait here one moment' and she—"
"For five hours?"
"I lost track of time.
I'm not perfect.
I'm sixty-three years old and I was managing three other children and I made a mistake.
But the way your wife spoke to me tonight, in front of the entire family, was humiliating.
I raised you better than that."
Daniel's hand tightened on the edge of the table.
"Mom," he said.
"Karen saw Mia alone in your backyard at Easter.
Gate unlatched."
Silence.
"Karen needs to mind her own business," Patricia said.
The warmth was gone now.
"She's my sister."
"She has always taken your wife's side.
From the beginning.
I don't know what I did to deserve that, but I have tried, Daniel.
I have tried with that child.
I have tried with your wife.
And this is what I get."
"That child," I said, "has a name."
Another silence.
Longer this time.
"I'm not speaking to you right now," Patricia said.
Flat.
Final.
"You're on speaker in my kitchen," I said.
"You've been speaking to me this whole time."
"Daniel, I need you to control your wife."
Daniel stood up from the table.
"Don't."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Don't say that." His voice was quiet but it had an edge I hadn't heard before.
"Don't ever say that."
"I am your mother."
"And Mia is my daughter."
The line was silent for a long moment.
Then Patricia's voice shifted.
Lower.
More careful.
"I think you need to consider what you're doing here, Daniel.
If you let her turn you against your own family over one misunderstanding, you will regret it.
I promise you that."
"Is that a threat?" I asked.
"It's a fact.
Families don't recover from this kind of thing.
I've seen it happen.
You cut off your mother, you lose your brothers, you lose the cousins, you lose everything.
And for what?
Because your wife decided to make a scene at a restaurant?"
"Because our daughter was alone in a parking garage for five hours," Daniel said.
"That's what this is about.
Nothing else."
"She was fine."
"She was not fine." His voice broke slightly on the last word.
He steadied it.
"She was afraid to move.
She was afraid to get in trouble for leaving the spot you put her in.
That is not fine.
That will never be fine."
Patricia didn't answer immediately.
When she spoke again, her voice had changed again.
Softer.
Almost hurt.
"I love Mia."
"Then act like it," Daniel said.
"I do.
I always have.
Your wife has poisoned this family against me and I won't stand for it.
I have done nothing but give and give to this family and I am treated like a criminal."
"Mom—"
"I want an apology," she said.
"From her.
A real one.
In writing.
And I want that video deleted.
All copies.
If that doesn't happen, I will speak to a lawyer about what she did tonight.
Recording without consent.
That is illegal."
I looked at Daniel.
He looked at me.
"Goodnight, Patricia," he said, and ended the call.
The kitchen was very quiet.
"She's going to do it," he said.
"She's going to try to make this about you."
"I know."
"The lawyer threat—"
"Is empty," I said.
"But it tells us something." I picked up my own phone.
"She's not worried about Mia.
She's worried about the footage."
I opened my email.
The video was there, timestamped, stored.
I forwarded it to one more address — my sister, who lived four states away and would not be reachable by Patricia or anyone connected to her.
"What are you doing?" Daniel asked.
"Making sure it doesn't disappear," I said.
He watched me set the phone down.
"She's not going to stop."
"No," I said.
"She's not."
He was quiet for a moment.
Then: "What did she mean, she's tried with Mia?
What does that even mean?"
I thought about Karen's words in the parking lot.
She has never once called Mia by her name without being prompted.
"It means," I said carefully, "that we need to talk to Mia tomorrow.
Properly.
Calmly.
And we need to ask her things we should have asked a long time ago."
Daniel nodded.
He looked toward the stairs, toward the room where Mia was sleeping.
"What if she tells us something worse?" he said.
May you like
I didn't answer.
Because I was already afraid of the same thing.
