“You called your mother from the ER and asked her to come take you home.”
Silence.
“When did you call her?”
“When I stepped away.”
“So while your daughter was screaming with a 104-degree fever, you called your mother to rescue you because you were tired.”
“My presentation is at nine.”
“I know.”
I shifted June slightly.
“But June does not know about your presentation.”
He looked down at her.
By then, June had exhausted herself.
Her screaming had faded into a smaller, tired cry.
Somehow, that sound hurt more.
I turned toward Sylvia.
She was still standing beside Ethan, apparently expecting him to leave with her.
“Sylvia.”
“What?”
“Sit down.”
Her eyes widened.
“Excuse me?”
“Sit down or go home.”
She looked toward Ethan.
“Ethan?”
He didn’t answer.
He looked at me.
Then at June.
Then he sat.
