Breathless, I tried and failed to get up several times, my elbows scraping raw against the ground, bleeding slightly.
The scrapes looked far worse than the minor cut on Simon’s head.
Finally, Nicole reached down to help me.
She was alright since I managed to shield her.
Ella, surrounded by her entourage, still looked unsatisfied, as if she had been wronged.
My body felt like it was rusted solid, but I clenched Nicole’s hand tighter.
From then on, we only had each other.
I locked eyes with Simon one last time, finding nothing but emptiness.
“I’m sorry for the trouble,” I said to the onlookers.
I nodded politely, straightened up, and walked out with slow, measured steps.
Nicole did not fight me then. Instead, she whispered, “Mom, what about our stuff?”
I shook my head and said, “Let’s pretend it all went up in flames.”
Options were slim in the middle of the night, so I booked us into a motel.
The room was surprisingly tidy, a small comfort.
Talk about serendipity—Nicole’s birthday and mine were a day apart.
Tomorrow was my day.
It was time to head home.
My phone lit up twice. Unlocking it, I found a message from Simon.
[Don’t come back for the next couple of days. Ella’s got a prenatal appointment tomorrow, and I’ve got to be there.]
[I’ll fill you in later.]
I stared at my phone, backspacing and rewriting, until I sent just one line.
