My lip split again in memory.
I folded the letter and called his attorney.
“I will meet him.”
Daniel stared at me.
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
That was exactly why I went.
The meeting happened in a controlled conference room.
Trevor entered wearing a plain shirt.
No expensive watch.
No confidence.
For the first time since childhood, he looked like someone who did not know whether his mother would save him.
He sat.
“Mom.”
“Do not call what happened ‘going too far.’”
He lowered his eyes.
“I hit you.”
“Yes.”
“Thirty times.”
He flinched.
“You counted?”
“Yes.”
His eyes filled.
“I am sorry.”
“Why?”
He looked confused.
“For hitting you.”
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“Why did you hit me?”
His mouth opened.
Closed.
Finally:
“You embarrassed me.”
There.
The true answer.
“Because I reminded you the house wasn't yours?”
“Yes.”
“Because your friends heard?”
“Yes.”
“Because Kristen was watching?”
