Chapter 2
Connor didn't move. His eyes stayed on the phone in my hands and his mouth stayed open just enough that I could see him breathing through it. Leo's weight was against my leg. He had both fists twisted into my skirt.
Martha made a small sound behind Connor. "That's enough," she said. Her voice was thin.
I turned the phone so the screen faced Connor. My thumb shook when I hit replay. The kitchen was too bright. The recessed lights made the marble island glare and the wood floor showed every footprint.
The footage started at 2:47 on the dome camera in the corner. Time stamp white in the upper right. I watched Connor watch it.
On screen, Martha came in through the glass-pane door with Leo on her hip. Leo was reaching for me. I saw myself step in, arms out, black turtleneck, olive skirt. Martha turned her shoulder, pulled Leo back hard against her navy coat. Leo's face screwed up. Then Martha's free hand shot out and clamped my forearm. She gripped and pulled me forward. My head snapped a little. On camera I tried to pull back without jostling Leo.
"Victoria was being rough," Martha said quickly. She stepped closer to Connor, hand hovering near his elbow. "I was protecting him. She yanked at him. You didn't see the start."
Connor didn't look at her. His brow pulled down. He leaned in toward the phone.
I let it play. The camera had no sound but the motion was clear. Martha didn't let go. She held Leo tight with one arm and held me with the other. Leo started to cry in the footage, mouth wide, his little red-and-white striped shirt bunching. Then present-day Leo made the same sound against my leg and I felt it through my skirt.
Martha's voice got sharper. "Stop this. You're scaring him again. Playing that over and over doesn't prove anything. A camera on the ceiling can't show what he needed."
"It shows your hands," I said. It was the first thing I'd said since he'd hit me. My cheek throbbed where his palm had landed. I kept my voice low so Leo wouldn't flinch.
Connor reached out without asking and took the phone from me. His fingers brushed mine. He held it with both hands and scrubbed backward ten seconds and watched the grab again. The timestamp was steady: 14:47:13 to 14:47:29.
"That time," he said, almost to himself. "That's when I was backing into the driveway. I texted you I was two minutes out."
He looked up at Martha then. His eyes were still wide but now they were wet.
"Mom," he said. "You told me she hit you first. You said she came at you."
Martha's mouth tightened. Her bun had come a little loose. "She did," she said. "She did before that clip starts. I was holding Leo so she wouldn't hurt him. Ask anyone, a mother knows when a child—"
"Don't," Connor said. He cut her off and then looked startled that he had. He looked back at the phone. "The door. You already had him. She wasn't even touching him yet and you pulled."
Leo pressed his face into my hip. I put my hand on his curly hair. It was damp at the temples.
Martha tried again, quieter. "I was protecting Leo. That's all I was doing. You're going to believe a camera over your own mother?"
Connor didn't answer right away. He stared at the frozen frame where Martha's hand was around my arm. His thumb hovered over the screen. He swallowed.
"I hit you," he said to me. Not to her. To me. His voice cracked. "I didn't look. I walked in and you were holding your cheek and she was crying and I just— I hit you without checking."
The word hit hung in the bright kitchen. No one moved to soften it.
I nodded once. The pain in my cheek pulsed with my heartbeat. I didn't touch it. I didn't want Leo to see that.
"I know," I said.
Martha took a half step back toward the glass door like she needed the wall behind her. Her face was pale. "Connor, don't do this. I raised you. I would never—"
"You did," he said. He still held my phone. His hands were shaking now. "I watched it. That's your hand. That's Leo you're pulling."
Leo tugged my skirt and whispered, "Mom," so small I felt it more than heard it.
Connor crouched then, slowly, to be at Leo's level. He didn't reach for him. He kept his hands to himself and the phone resting on his knee, screen still glowing.
"Hey, buddy," he said. His eyes were red at the edges. "I'm here."
Leo didn't answer. He stayed against me, eyes squeezed, tears cutting through the flush on his cheeks.
Connor looked up at me from that crouch. Shame had replaced the shock. His shoulders caved forward inside his bomber jacket. He held the phone out to return it.
May you like
"I was wrong," he said. "I hit you. I'm sorry."
Martha stood by the door, navy coat buttoned, hands clasped tight. She didn't leave. She didn't apologize. She watched us and waited to see if her version would still hold.
