"You think I would tolerate the abuse of my own child?" Her face was flushed with anger and her eyes too bright.
"I had Gideon examined by two separate pediatricians to look for .
trauma.
I did everything I could be expected to do."
"Except believe him.
Which is what you should've done as his mother."
"I'm Christopher's mother, too, and he was there.
He swears nothing happened.
Who was I supposed to believe when there was no proof? No one could find anything to support Gideon's claims."
"He shouldn't have had to provide proof.
He was a child!" The anger I felt was vibrating through me.
My fists were clenched against the urge to hit her.
Not just for what Gideon had lost, but for what we'd lost together.
"You were supposed to take his side no matter what."
"Gideon was a troubled boy, struggling through therapy over his father's death, and desperate for attention.
You don't know what he was like then."
"I know what he's like now.
He's broken and hurting and doesn't think he's worth loving.
And you helped make him that way."
"Go to hell."
She stormed off.
"I'm already there," I shouted after her.
"And so is your son."
* * *
I spent all day Sunday being Old Eva.
Trey had the day off and took Cary out for brunch and a movie.
I was pleased to see them together, thrilled that they were both trying.
Cary hadn't invited over any of the people who called his cell, and I wondered if he was rethinking his friendships.
I suspected many were of the fair- weather variety - great fun but no substance.
Having the entire apartment to myself, I slept too much, ate crappy food, and never bothered to change out of my pajamas.