“What do you want?”
“I want the truth to be allowed into the room.”
The phrase was so simple that it hurt.
At six o’clock, I called my mother.
She answered immediately.
“Finally.”
“Where is Ethan?”
“With Chloe.”
“Is he safe?”
“Of course he is safe. What kind of question is that?”
“Put Chloe on.”
“David—”
“Put Chloe on.”
There was movement, then my sister’s breathless voice.
“Are you out of your mind? The hotel froze the room charges. Mark had to call three friends.”
“Is Ethan safe?”
“Yes, he’s safe.”
“Do you have enough money to feed him and get him home?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“Then come home tomorrow.”
Chloe’s voice sharpened.
“Why? So Maya can sit there looking fragile while you accuse us of things?”
“She’s in the hospital.”
Silence.
“What?”
“She has an infection. Her incision reopened.”
“That’s not our fault.”
