Chapter 8
A year after the assault, I stood in my kitchen holding the same kind of crystal glass Carly had thrown.
I had almost given away the entire set.
Instead, I kept it.
Not because I wanted to remember violence.
Because I refused to let violence own anything beautiful in my home.
Andy came over for dinner with Lila and Jenna.
We ate roast chicken, talked too loudly, and argued over a movie.
At one point, Lila knocked over a glass of water.
She gasped and reached for a towel.
Andy laughed.
“It’s okay,” he said.
Such simple words.
But I watched his shoulders stay relaxed.
I watched him smile instead of flinch.
And I knew he was healing.
Later, he helped me wash dishes.
“Mom,” he said, “thank you for calling the police.”
I looked at him.
“You think I would not have?”
“I think I wanted you to protect me before I even knew I needed it.”
I touched his cheek.
“You deserved protection long before that night.”
May you like
His eyes filled.
“So did you.”
