She looked up at me and asked if she could stop taking the pills Grandma gave her every day.
There are sentences that make sense immediately.
That one did not.
My mind tried to protect me from what I had heard. I thought maybe Emma meant vitamins. Diane had mentioned “special vitamins” that supposedly helped Emma settle down at night.
I had accepted that explanation because it had sounded harmless.
That fact became difficult to live with almost instantly.
I crouched so I was eye level with Emma.
“Sweetheart, show me the bottle.”
Her lip trembled.
“Am I in trouble?”
That question hurt in a different way.
Whatever had been happening, my daughter had already learned to connect telling me about it with the possibility that she might be blamed.
