“You know what Kristen told you I would do.”
“You never gave me the chance to decide.”
He wiped his face.
Then:
“I am sorry.”
I looked at him.
“Did you know Trevor was going to hit me?”
His head snapped up.
“No.”
“Did Kristen?”
Martin hesitated.
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
He took a breath.
“She said he was becoming unstable.”
“That's not what I asked.”
He closed his eyes.
“Two weeks before his birthday, she told me she thought if you confronted Trevor about the house, he might ‘finally do something useful.’”
My blood went cold.
“Useful?”
“I didn't know she meant violence.”
“Did you ask?”
“No.”
Silence.
There it was.
Another moment when not asking became a choice.
I stood.
Martin looked terrified.
“Gloria.”
“I have nothing else to say today.”
I walked toward the door.
Then turned.
“One question.”
“Yes.”
“If Trevor had not hit me, would you have told me?”
