A child should never have to hold both those feelings in the same body.
I looked at Lena and wanted to say every cruel thing that had built itself inside me during that drive.
I wanted to ask how she did not see it.
I wanted to ask why Travis was ever alone with him.
I wanted to punish her with words because I could not undo what had happened.
But Noah was watching us.
So I swallowed it.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
Control.
I said, “Ride with us to the hospital. We talk after Noah is safe.”
She nodded like she deserved nothing more than instructions.
At the hospital intake desk, I gave Noah’s name, date of birth, and insurance information while he sat against my chest in the wheelchair because he refused to let me put him down.
The nurse clipped a plastic wristband around his tiny wrist.
