Daniel walked around the table, but he did not touch me. He stood two feet away, looking down at the napkin.
“Mom, you are overreacting,” Daniel said, his words coming in that rapid, defensive burst. “You are making it look worse than it is. It is just a little scratch.”
“I am going to the hospital,” I said.
“We can put a bandage on it here,” Daniel said, reaching toward my face. “Do not make a big deal out of this. If you go to the hospital, they will ask questions.”
“They should ask questions,” I said.
I stood up, keeping the napkin pressed tight against my head. The room was perfectly still, except for the sound of my shoes crunching on the tiny shards of glass scattered near my chair.
“If you leave, Margaret, we are not coming back,” Linda said, her voice no longer sweet.
I did not answer her. I walked out of the dining room, down the front hallway, and grabbed my purse from the small table by the door. My car keys were inside, cold and solid against my fingers.
“Mom, stop,” Daniel called out, following me into the hallway. “You cannot drive like that. Let me drive you.”
“Do not touch me, Daniel,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage.
He stopped at the front door, his hand resting on the brass handle. He checked his watch again, his eyes darting toward the street.
“You are going to ruin everything over a misunderstanding,” he said.
I opened the door and walked out into the cool Ohio afternoon.
The neighborhood was quiet, the green lawns of early spring neat and empty.
Our neighbor, Thomas Reed, was walking his golden retriever along the edge of my driveway. He was sixty-seven, a retired firefighter who lived alone three houses down, and he was twirling his dog’s leather leash around his hand in a slow, practiced circle.
He stopped when he saw me come out the front door.
“Margaret?” Thomas called out, his calm, steady drawl carrying across the grass. “Is everything all right over there?”
I did not want to look at him, but I had to navigate the two steps down to the driveway. I kept the bloody napkin pressed against my forehead, but the red stain had already soaked through the linen.
