Chapter 2 - THE CHILD WHO WAS “ALWAYS EASIER” FOR GRANDMA
Megan called Noah’s pediatrician from the driveway.
She did not wait for Diane’s permission.
She did not ask Eric whether she was embarrassing his family.
She described exactly what she had found.
Two droppers.
One beside the spilled cup.
One inside Diane’s handbag.
Noah unusually sleepy.
The nurse instructed them to have Noah medically evaluated immediately and bring anything potentially involved with them.
Megan went back inside.
Diane was zipping her handbag closed.
“Leave it.”
Diane looked up.
“Excuse me?”
“The nurse wants us to bring whatever might have been used.”
“You are not taking my purse.”
Megan stepped closer.
“Then take out the medication.”
“I didn't give him medication.”
Eric spoke from behind her.
“Mom, just show us.”
Diane turned on him.
“You too?”
It was such a familiar sentence that Eric visibly shrank from it.
Megan noticed.
She had seen Diane do this for years.
Disagreement became betrayal.
A boundary became ingratitude.
A question became an insult.
Diane pulled a small bottle from an inner pocket.
Its pharmacy label bore her own name.
Megan did not touch it.
Eric looked at his mother.
“Why would Noah have this?”
“He doesn't.”
“The dropper—”
“Is just a dropper.”
Megan laughed once.
“There are two identical droppers and one was beside his drink.”
Diane’s sister, Carol, finally spoke from the kitchen.
“Diane, if there's an explanation, just give it.”
Diane stared at her.
Then back at Megan.
“He has trouble settling down.”
Nobody moved.
Diane continued.
“He gets overtired. Megan refuses to maintain a proper schedule.”
Megan tightened her arms around Noah.
“So you put your medication in his drink?”
“I did not say that.”
“What did you put in it?”
Diane’s silence answered more effectively than words.
Noah murmured against Megan’s shoulder.
“Grandma makes sleepy juice.”
Megan stopped breathing.
Eric looked at his son.
“What did you say, buddy?”
Noah’s eyes remained half closed.
“Grandma sleepy juice.”
Megan looked at Diane.
Not today.
Not this cup.
Other times.
The memory of every unusually quiet ride home suddenly rearranged itself.
Diane had always praised Noah afterward.
See? He does beautifully when he's with me.
Megan had accepted it as another criticism of her parenting.
Now she understood the comparison may have been manufactured.
Eric grabbed his coat.
“We're going to the hospital.”
Diane stepped toward him.
“Eric, don't turn this into something ugly.”
Megan looked at her.
May you like
“You already did.”
And for the first time in seven years, Eric did not tell Megan to let it go.
