Chapter 2 - NINETEEN MISSED CALLS
On the drive home, my son stared through the passenger-side window from his car seat, his small voice asking whether Grandma was still his grandma. I gently explained that adults sometimes say cruel things when they want power over a room, but nothing she said could change who he was to me. By the time I carried him inside and tucked him beneath his dinosaur blanket, my phone had started vibrating relentlessly. My mother had called nineteen times. Her voicemails ranged from defensive complaints about being embarrassed in front of everyone to frantic accusations that my sister had taken her own son and left because of me, culminating in a desperate plea for me to call my sister and tell everyone she was just joking.
