My forehead cracked against a chair back.
Everything went white.
When the sound came back, the guests had made a half circle around us.
What they saw was me on the ground, fighting to get loose. Tyler crying in Diane’s arms. Mark holding me from behind.
What they didn’t see was whose box that was.
Diane took that second and ran with it.
“Call the police! She’s crazy!”
I pulled one hand free of Mark’s arm and touched my knee. My hand came back red.
“Call.”
I lifted my head and shouted at the crowd.
“Call them. Right now. I want the police here.”
Somebody pulled out a phone.
Diane shouted at them.
“Tell them she hit my grandson! She’s off her meds and drunk!”
I turned and looked at Mark.
“Say something.”
His lips pressed into a thin line.
“Are you your mother’s son, or are you my husband? Say it out loud.”
