Mom was traditional.
Mom was difficult.
Mom meant well.
I had mistaken avoiding conflict for maintaining peace.
While I proudly told myself that I provided a good life for my family, Jessica had been carrying the consequences of my cowardice alone.
The officers instructed everyone not to touch or remove anything until statements were recorded.
Carmen immediately demanded to pack her belongings.
“This whole thing is just an absurd circus caused by one dramatic woman,” my mother muttered bitterly.
The officer cut her off.
“Ma’am, you just threw hot boiling food at these people, and this man suffered burns while shielding his wife, so stop downplaying severe domestic abuse,” the officer stated firmly.
While paramedics treated the burns across my neck and chest, I accompanied an officer into my mother’s bedroom.
Using my spare master key, I opened the cabinet.
Inside the locked drawer, hidden beneath a wool scarf, was an old smartphone I’d lent Carmen months earlier.
