“What I really want is for you to understand what you lost. It wasn’t only the house. It was me.”
He broke then, crying with his shoulders shaking, but crying does not return years.
I took the flash drive from my purse and placed it on the table.
“What’s that?”
“The truth. Seventeen recordings. Listen to them alone. Not with Emily. Alone.”
His eyes lifted to mine, frightened.
“Why alone?”
“Because if you hear them together, you may walk out on your marriage that same night. And whatever I suffered, your children do not deserve chaos piled on top of it.”
He left with the notebook and the drive.
Later that afternoon Michael came by himself. He flew into my arms crying.
“Grandma, I miss you.”
I knelt and held his little face.
“Sometimes when people treat you badly for too long, you have to leave so they remember your value.”
“But we don’t treat you badly.”
“I know, sweetheart. You and Sarah love me. Your parents forgot how to treat me the right way.”
We ate cookies. We played dominoes. I read him a story. When Daniel came to pick him up, I asked only one question.
“Did you listen to it?”
He nodded.
“All of it?”
He nodded again.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”