Chapter 3 - WHAT ETHAN THOUGHT “MOM FEELS BETTER” MEANT
The next morning Jiso contacted an attorney.
Not because she had decided every detail of her marriage.
Because she needed to understand what leaving the house meant for Ethan.
Her attorney, Dana Fields, told her not to make promises about outcomes.
Document what happened.
Preserve messages.
Follow medical advice.
Do not use Ethan as a messenger.
Do not question him repeatedly.
And do not return to the house alone.
Jiso listened.
Robert listened too.
When Dana learned Robert had struck and kicked Phillip while intervening, she did not tell him it automatically disappeared because he was protecting Jiso.
She said the circumstances mattered and that he should describe exactly what happened if law enforcement asked.
Robert appreciated the honesty.
“I stopped when he stopped coming toward her.”
“That matters,” Dana said.
No dramatic guarantees.
Real life rarely gave them.
The more difficult appointment came that afternoon.
Ethan’s pediatrician referred them to Dr. Karen Willis, a child psychologist in Raleigh.
After the first session, Dr. Willis spoke briefly with Jiso.
“Ethan seems to believe your arguments follow a predictable sequence.”
Jiso’s hands went cold.
“What sequence?”
“He gets told to go somewhere else.”
“Yes.”
“He waits.”
“Yes.”
“Then Phillip comes for him and explains that you became very upset but things are okay now.”
Jiso stared.
“He says that?”
“According to Ethan.”
Jiso thought back.
Phillip bringing Ethan inside.
Phillip making grilled cheese.
Phillip speaking gently.
Phillip telling her, in front of their son:
See? We’re okay.
She had interpreted it as reconciliation.
Now she saw something else.
Phillip was establishing the ending before Ethan could ask what happened in the middle.
Dr. Willis continued.
“Ethan also feels responsible for timing his return correctly.”
Jiso’s throat tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“He listens for quiet.”
Jiso stopped breathing for a second.
Dr. Willis kept her voice calm.
“He said he knows he can come back when he can’t hear you crying anymore.”
Jiso turned away.
Her son had heard her.
Every time Phillip sent him outside to protect him from witnessing violence, Ethan had still been listening.
Porch.
Backyard.
Garage.
Once the neighbor’s driveway.
Jiso remembered Ethan returning unusually quiet.
She had told herself children sensed tension.
She had not allowed herself to ask how much he understood.
That evening she apologized to him.
Not for Phillip.
For herself.
“I told you Dad was just stressed sometimes.”
Ethan nodded.
“I shouldn’t have made you think hurting people is just stress.”
He looked scared.
“Are you getting divorced?”
Jiso paused.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Does that mean Dad can come here?”
“Not tonight.”
Ethan looked toward Robert.
Then whispered, “Dad says Grandpa hates him.”
Robert almost answered.
Jiso stopped him gently.
“What do you think?”
Ethan shrugged.
“I think Grandpa hates when Dad hits you.”
Robert looked down.
The distinction was clearer to the child than to the adults.
That night Phillip sent Jiso another message.
I’ll do counseling. I’ll do anything. But tell your father to stop filling Ethan’s head with abuse language.
Jiso read it twice.
Not:
I hit you.
Not:
I scared our son.
The problem, in Phillip’s version, was still the words other people used to describe what he had done.
Jiso took a screenshot.
May you like
For years she had thought Phillip’s greatest skill was calming down after an explosion.
She was beginning to understand that calming down was how he kept the explosion from becoming the story.
