Michael did not yell all the time.
That was what made explaining him so hard.
People think cruelty always announces itself.
They imagine broken dishes, slammed doors, bruises where everyone can see them.
But sometimes cruelty wears an old T-shirt, leans against a bathroom doorway, and calls a sick child dramatic.
Sometimes it speaks calmly enough that you begin to wonder whether you are the unreasonable one.
Emily had been vomiting since Monday afternoon.
At first she told me it was probably something from the school cafeteria, and I wanted to believe her because mothers sometimes cling to small explanations before the bigger ones arrive.
By Tuesday morning she had a fever.
By Tuesday night she stopped asking for water and only nodded when I brought it.
By Wednesday evening she was walking from her bedroom to the bathroom with her fingertips sliding along the wall, bent at the waist like standing straight might split her open.
