I turned toward Leo, watching his tiny chest rise and fall beneath the oxygen tent.
He was struggling for every breath while my mother demanded that I abandon him to distribute programs at a birthday celebration.
In that moment, the last hold my family had over me finally disappeared.
I looked back at David, no longer trembling.
“Call my mother back,” I said, my voice steady and cold.
“And put her on speaker.”
PART 2
David looked at me for several seconds, searching my face for the uncertainty that had governed so many decisions throughout our marriage.
For the first time, he found none.
He placed my phone between us and pressed my mother’s number while Leo’s oxygen monitor continued its relentless electronic rhythm.
She answered after the second ring, sounding irritated before either of us spoke.
“Clara, I specifically told you fifteen minutes, and you’re wasting another one of them calling me.”
