Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“I was protecting my daughter today.”
“I know what you were doing.”
“She said you shoved her.”
“And you told me to leave before asking me one question.”
He opened the file again, flipping past dates and copies as if enough paper might turn the conversation back into something he controlled.
“You’ve been documenting our family.”
“I’ve been documenting the times I was told I didn’t belong in my own home.”
For a few seconds, Ava stared at the floor.
Then Daniel pushed the file toward me.
“If you walk out tonight, don’t expect everything to be normal tomorrow.”
“It hasn’t been normal for a while.”
Upstairs, I packed enough clothes for several days, my medication, my laptop charger, and the toothbrush I kept forgetting to replace.
I also packed a framed photograph, then took it back out because it belonged on the dresser more than it belonged with me.
The trip accomplished nothing except making my arms tired.
When I came downstairs, Daniel was sitting at the island.
Ava had disappeared into her room.
“You’re really doing this,” he said.
I picked up the blue file.
“Yes.”
Sometime after seven, I used the apartment key for the first time and locked the door behind me.
The apartment was warmer than I expected, almost empty, and the refrigerator made a clicking sound every few minutes that the leasing office had apparently forgotten to mention.
I ate crackers over the sink because I had no table yet.
My phone started buzzing before I finished the second one.
Daniel had posted in the family group chat.
He said I had secretly rented an apartment, kept financial records behind his back, and used a misunderstanding with Ava as my excuse to leave.
He did not say that he had told me to leave.
Carol called about twenty minutes later.
She sounded tired.
“Honey, maybe everybody just needs a little space. Ava was shaken up. Daniel was trying to keep things from getting worse.”
Carol had been the one at the barbecue who thought the pitcher might have hit Ava.
She kept that version.
I didn’t correct her.
“I have space,” I said. “I’m using it.”
Before we hung up, she asked whether I had eaten.
I looked at the open sleeve of crackers.
“Sort of.”
The next morning, Ava texted me before Daniel did.
Were you already planning to leave?
I sat on the edge of the mattress I had slept on without sheets because the box with the linens was still in my car.
Yes, I wrote.
Her answer came almost immediately.
