"Sylvia. What are you doing?"
She turned toward me.
"I'm helping my son."
"We're waiting for a doctor."
"I'm helping my son."
"I can see that, but he has an important meeting in the morning and needs his rest."
I looked at Ethan.
He looked at the floor.
That hurt more than anything Sylvia was saying.
"I'm exhausted too," I said.
Sylvia's face changed.
That hurt more than anything Sylvia was saying.
She had always been defensive of Ethan, but usually in quieter ways.
She'd bring him food if I mentioned we were both busy. She'd tell me I was "better at soothing the baby" whenever I asked him to take a night feeding.
I had spent months pretending those things were harmless.
At two in the morning, in front of a room full of strangers, she stopped pretending.
I had spent months pretending those things were harmless.
"He didn't sign up for this much stress!" she snapped.
