Chapter 5: What Sylvia Said
"I need you to understand something." Sylvia's voice was composed.
Controlled.
The screaming woman from the waiting room had been replaced by someone colder.
"My son has worked very hard to build the life you're currently living in.
That apartment.
That neighborhood.
Your ability to stay home with that baby.
That is all Ethan."
"Good morning, Sylvia."
"Don't be glib with me."
"I'm not being glib.
I'm acknowledging that you called."
"I'm calling because last night you humiliated my son in public and removed me from his daughter's emergency contacts without his knowledge or consent."
"I have every right to update my daughter's emergency contacts."
"She is his daughter too."
"Then he should have been holding her instead of texting Dana."
Silence.
"I don't know what you think you saw—"
"I read the messages, Sylvia.
Four months of them.
So let's not do this."
Another silence.
Longer this time.
"Ethan is not perfect," she said finally.
"But he is a good provider and a good son.
What you're considering right now would destroy this family."
"What I'm considering?"
"Don't pretend you haven't thought about it."
I moved to the window.
The street below was quiet, a Tuesday morning, a woman walking a dog, a delivery truck double-parked.
"Here's what I want you to understand," I said.
"What happens in my marriage is between me and Ethan.
Not you.
You don't get a seat at that table."
"I am his mother—"
"And I am his wife.
And Lily's mother.
And last night, when our daughter was sick and frightened and needed both her parents, you came to that hospital to take him away from us.
You didn't ask about Lily once.
Not once." My voice stayed level.
"So I need you to hear me clearly: you do not get to call me and lecture me about family."
"You are being incredibly—"
"I'm going to hang up now."
"If you take my son from me—"
"Sylvia." I stopped her.
"You're not losing your son because of me.
If you lose him, it'll be because of the choices he made.
And the choices you made last night." I paused.
"Goodbye."
I ended the call.
My hands were shaking.
I set the phone face-down on the counter and stood there breathing.
Then I heard a knock at the door.
My mother.
Early.
I opened it and she took one look at my face and walked straight in and put her arms around me, Lily and all.
"I heard some of that from the hallway," she said into my hair.
"You did good."
"I'm so tired, Mom."
"I know." She pulled back and looked at me.
"Go lie down.
I have Lily."
"She needs her second antibiotic dose at—"
"I raised three children.
Go."
I went.
I slept for four hours straight.
No dreams.
When I woke up, the apartment smelled like soup and my mother was singing something low and tuneless to Lily in the living room.
I lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling.
My phone had seven messages.
Three from Ethan.
One from Sylvia — a text this time.
Two from friends I hadn't spoken to in months.
And one from a number I didn't recognize.
The text from the unknown number said: *"Hi.
I think we need to talk.
My name is Dana."*
I sat up slowly.
May you like
I read it again.
Then I set the phone down and walked out to find my mother.
