The way she stood in my kitchen, lording over the place, disgusted by the drawings on the fridge and the kids’ water bottles in the sink.
The way she looked at me like I was beneath her. Replaceable.
That was the threat. Not violence. Erasure.
The quiet conviction that she could show up in my home and take it apart simply because she felt like it.
“You always had a flair for the dramatic.” She picked up Ellie’s most recent science test and studied it before placing it back on the table.
Then she picked up one of Julian’s Lego creations. A robot version of our van, complete with minifigs of the four of us inside.
“Put that down,” I said. “And leave.”
Lip curled, she locked eyes with me and dropped it on the floor, where it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces.
Julian gasped and then began to cry.
“I see you’re still indulging him. It only fuels weakness.”
My vision went red. Bringing the kids into this was a step too far. I had no idea why she was here, but I wouldn’t tolerate it anymore.
“Leave.” I took a step toward her, pulling my shoulders back.
She did the same, pushing me with both hands, sending me stumbling backward. “You think you’re protecting thechildren,” she said, her voice almost kind. “But you’re isolating them. Keeping them from their real family.”
“She is our family,” Ellie protested, one arm around Julian, who had buried his head in her side, still weeping. “Keep your hands off her.”
“She’s your family for now.” Phyllis opened her Chanel purse and pulled out a handgun, then placed it on top of the table with a steady hand.
My whole body trembled, a familiar sense of panic setting in. But I couldn’t fall apart. I couldn’t break down. I needed to be strong for my kids.
So with a deep breath in, I steadied myself.
“Kids,” I said brightly. “Why don’t you go get your suitcases?”
“Mom,” Ellie protested, tears in her eyes, her focus on the table.
I silently willed her to look at me, and when she did, I prayed she understood me.
Take Maggie and Julian and hide, I told her silently.Just like we practiced.
I made eye contact with each of them, sending them assurances that it would be okay. “TTG,” I said. “Go get them.”
Ellie reached for Julian’s hand. “Where did you put them?” Ellie asked in a calm tone that meant she got my silent messages. “I forgot.”
“In the garage,” I said.
Phyllis looked between us.
“We can go on a trip with Nana,” I chirped. “But the luggage is out there.”
Ellie nodded quickly. “Okay. We’ll do that. Julian?” she asked brightly, “Do you want to get your dinosaur suitcase?”
She pushed her siblings toward the back door, keeping her body between them and Phyllis. She had recognized our phrase. We’d planned it out a long time ago, when her therapist suggested that having a plan in case of danger might help to ease her anxiety. So we had keywords.
This house didn’t have a garage. None of our crappy rentals had. Not that Phyllis seemed to have noticed. I just needed to distract her long enough to get them out the door and away from here.
Ellie looked back at me as she closed the door, her face a mask of fear that made my heart clench. My sweet girl. So strong and brave. She had been asked to carry a far bigger burden than she should. I hated myself for it. That I couldn’t keep her safe. That I’d failed to give her the childhood she deserved.
