Chapter 2 - Mason Told Me Grandma Wasn’t Allowed to Eat When I Was Gone
I called an ambulance for Mom.
Then I moved the children into the family room where they could still see me but not the broken dishes.
Chloe tried to speak.
I told her not to.
Not yet.
Eleanor had bruising along her ribs and cheek but no fracture or serious internal injury. The emergency physician wanted her observed because of her age and frailty.
At the hospital, Mason refused to leave my side.
Lily held his hand.
When the nurse took Mom for imaging, Mason finally whispered:
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Grandma didn’t do anything.”
I looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
His eyes immediately filled.
“Mom said Grandma was bad because she keeps eating our food.”
Something inside me tightened.
“What food?”
“Our dinner.”
“Mason, Grandma lives with us.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
“Does Mom stop her from eating?”
He looked toward Lily.
My daughter nodded before he did.
Then Mason said:
“When you’re at work, Grandma has different rules.”
I felt sick.
“What rules?”
“If she doesn’t finish her chores, she doesn’t get dinner.”
Chores.
My sixty-seven-year-old mother had moved into our house after a hip injury six months earlier. She used a cane some mornings. Her hands shook when she was tired.
“What chores?”
“Laundry.”
“Cleaning?”
“Sometimes dishes.”
Lily finally spoke.
“And stairs.”
I turned toward her.
“What about stairs?”
“Mom makes Grandma carry stuff upstairs because she says she has to get stronger.”
I closed my eyes.
For months Chloe had been telling me the opposite.
That Mom refused physical therapy.
That Mom was becoming dependent.
That Mom wanted everyone waiting on her.
Now my children were telling me my wife had been forcing a frail woman to earn meals through physical work.
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And I had believed Chloe when she said Mom was “difficult.”
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