At bedtime:
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Why Mommy no hospital?”
I sat beside her.
“She wanted to.”
“Wade say no.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He wanted to control what people heard.”
Too adult.
I corrected.
“He was afraid Mommy would tell what happened.”
“Mommy scared?”
“Yes.”
“Why not fight him?”
There.
A four-year-old’s version of my question.
I thought carefully.
“Sometimes people are scared and they try to get safe without fighting.”
Lucy looked at her sling.
“Nurse fight.”
“The nurse caught you.”
“She got me.”
“Yes.”
“Mommy put secret.”
“Yes.”
“Was that fight?”
I smiled slightly.
“Maybe that was her way of getting help.”
Lucy accepted.
Then:
“Mommy good?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
That answer mattered because I had spent weeks behaving as though Claire’s failure to leave sooner made her parenting suspect.
“Daddy good?”
I almost laughed.
“Trying.”
Lucy frowned.
“That not yes.”
Children.
“I love you.”
“That not yes.”
“Sometimes Daddy makes bad choices too.”
“Like slap Wade?”
I stopped.
“Maybe.”
“He getting me.”
“Yes.”
The hospital video showed Wade lunging toward Lucy.
My slap had occurred during immediate defense.
Prosecutors later declined to charge me after reviewing the footage and witness statements.
Legally justified or at least insufficient basis for charge under defense-of-another principles.
Emotionally?
I still disliked that Lucy remembered my hand almost as clearly as the nurse’s arms.
“I hit him to stop him reaching you.”
“Okay.”
Then:
“But if I can stop someone without hitting, that is better.”
She yawned.
