Daniel said he told her it wasn’t her fault. At first.
But somewhere in those first frightening days, when he was drugged up and terrified and facing another surgery, he said something else.
“You left me when I needed you.”
So Emma stayed.
When she tried to go home for a night, Daniel panicked. When she brought up dance, he went silent and sullen. When she missed rehearsals, he never once told her to go.
Sometimes he’d sigh and say, “I guess I know what’s more important.”
My own son was telling me all of this. And I felt sick to my stomach.
I thought of Emma peeling that orange. He’s had a hard time.
I thought of that awful chair. The missed classes. The dark circles under her eyes. The way she’d gone stiff when I hugged her.
You’re so good to him.
