“I’m so sorry,” Morgan said, her voice barely audible beyond Etta’s screams. “Jesus.”
“What happened?” my mom asked, coming around the corner out of breath like she’d been running.
“She’s okay,” Morgan said, embarrassment making her cheeks a deep red.
She moved around us and hurried down the hall while Etta shoved and pushed at her shoulders.
“What happened?” my mom asked again, clearly freaked out.
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “She’s throwing a fit.”
“That wasn’t a fit. Children don’t scream like that unless they’re hurt. Something is clearly wrong.”
Even though I thought she was overreacting, I tried to keep my voice even when I replied. “She didn’t want to sit and eat,” I said, picking up Etta’s banana off the floor.
“That wasn’t a normal fit,” my mom argued. “Kids don’t just—”
“Yes,” I interrupted. “They do. I’ve seen Keller do the same damn thing.”
“Keller also lost his mother,” my mom snapped, not willing to let the conversation go.
“I watched him do it before Rachel died,” I snapped, tossing the banana in the garbage. “You’re looking for something that isn’t there.”
“Oh, because you know so well what goes on in this house?” Mom hissed, making me freeze in surprise.
“What exactly are you insinuating?” I asked, my voice barely audible.
My mom scoffed and left the room without another word while I grabbed a paper towel to wipe the banana residue off the floor. I was still crouched low when I realized that Morgan had walked back into the room and was silently watching me.
“Thanks,” she said quietly.
“No problem.” I was irritated but trying not to let it show in my voice or body language.
“What’s she looking for?” she asked, her voice still just as quiet.
“What?”
“Your mom. What’s she looking for?”
I looked up to find that Morgan had wrapped her arms around her waist and was shifting her weight almost imperceptibly from one foot to the other.
“She’s just overprotective,” I replied vaguely, getting to my feet again. “Too many years taking care of troubled kids.”
“She thinks Etta is troubled?” she asked, her spine stiffening.
“No.” I shook my head as I tossed the paper towel in the trash. “I just mean she’s oversensitive.”
“What, does she think I hurt her?” Morgan asked, her voice getting higher. “That something’s wrong with her?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head again in denial. I had no idea what was going on in my mom’s mind, but I knew with absolute certainty that if she spooked Morgan now, we’d probably never be welcome to see Etta again. “No. Morgan.”
“Do you think that? You’ve barely even looked at me today.”
“You know that doesn’t have anything to do with what’s going on today,” I replied, lowering my voice.
“I don’t know anything,” she said, her eyes wide. “Was this all your plan? Did you come here to check me out? Try to find me doing something wrong?”
“What are you—”
“Like having sex while my kid’s asleep in the next room,” she said drily, shaking her head slowly from side to side.
I wanted to snap at her that she was being ridiculous, because she was, but as I took a closer look at her face, my stomach dropped. She was genuinely terrified. I didn’t know what had triggered the fear, but it was clear as day.
“I think you’re an awesome mom,” I said quietly, taking a small step forward.
“Your mother doesn’t,” she replied, glancing toward the living room. “Kids throw fits, okay? Especially kids who are dramatic on a good day.”
She was shaking.
“I know that.”
“It doesn’t mean that I’m a shitty parent.”
“Morgan,” I said, trying to find the words to calm her down. “No one thinks you’re a bad parent.”
“Think they’re leaving,” Stan said, ambling into the kitchen. I wasn’t sure how much he’d heard, but it was enough to make him stand closer than usual to his daughter.
“It sounds like Etta’s done,” Morgan said, swallowing hard. “I’ll go get her so she can say good-bye.”
She spun and left the room, and I watched her disappear down the hall until Stan’s voice got my attention.
“Not sure what you people are doing here,” he said, shaking his head. He lifted his hand to stop me when I opened my mouth to reply. “But she don’t give no second chances, so you may want to watch yourself.”
“My parents just wanted to meet their granddaughter,” I said when he’d finished.
“Well, they’ve done that,” he said with a hum.
He walked away and I went to where my parents were standing in the entryway, waiting for me. They didn’t look like they were in a hurry to leave, but the decision to go had clearly already been made.
“All better,” Morgan said with forced brightness as she carried Etta toward us. “Sometimes we have a hard time when we have to do things we don’t want to do, right, Etta?”
“Don’t we all,” my dad said jokingly. “Thanks again for having us.”