stomach starting to hurt worse than it ever had before. I didn’t understand what Mama was saying. Where else would Daddy want to be?
I heard drawers slamming shut, Mama still crying. The door of my room slowly opened and I held my breath, thinking it might be Daddy, but it was only Max. He had one hand on the doorknob and his worn yellow blanket in the other. His eyes were wide; his bottom lip trembled. He was only four. “Come here,” I whispered, lifting up my blanket and scooting closer to the wall. He tiptoed over to my bed and climbed in. His body was warm, but he was shaking.
After a moment, he put his head against my chest and started to cry. “Shh,” I said, slipping one arm around him, and together, we waited for morning to come.
Grace
“Grace?” Max’s voice crept into my dreams and tickled me awake. He put his small hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. Victor wasn’t home yet; it was a few weeks after Kelli’s death, and he had started working later hours at the restaurant to make up for the time he spent taking care of the kids in the afternoons. Last night, he’d called at eleven to say he had to finish the wine order and wouldn’t be home until well after the bar closed.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” I asked Max. “It’s so late.” Or so early. I forced myself to open my eyes and look at the clock. Two twenty-three. Ugh. Definitely early.
“I wet the bed,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” He started to cry. “I had too much milk last night after dinner and I’m not supposed to and I had a bad dream and I wet the bed!” He began to sob in earnest, and I spun upright, steadying myself on the mattress with one arm and reaching out to him with the other, rubbing his back. The front of his jammies were soaked and cold. I tried not to gasp as a waft of ammonia hit me.
“Hey now. Of course you didn’t mean it. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it.”
He clenched his eyes shut and shook his head rapidly back and forth, not seeming to hear me through his tears. “Mama always says not to but I forgot ’cause I was just so thirsty!”
I wanted to cry, too, hearing him refer to her in the present tense—as though she were still alive. “Max, honey,” I said, dropping into a squat so we were eye level with each other. “I didn’t know that, so it’s nobody’s fault. Okay?” I pushed his damp hair back from his face and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. “It’s only an accident. We just need to go get you some new sheets and new PJ’s, right? Everything’s going to be okay.”
“No it’s not!” he shrieked. He stamped his foot. “Not it’s not, no it’s not!”
“Max,” I said again, trying to keep my voice level, but feeling my heart rate begin to rise. “Ava is sleeping. I need you to try to be quiet.” I glanced at the doorway, willing Victor to walk through it. I wasn’t sure how to handle this on my own.
“No!” he screeched, and began to sob. “I want Mama!” he cried, and suddenly swung his arm out, knocking my alarm clock to the hardwood floor with a clatter.
“Max!” I grabbed his arms so he wouldn’t lash out at anything else.
“Did he wet the bed?” Ava said as she entered the room. So much for not waking her. Max yanked away from me, ran over to his sister, and pressed his face into her side. I straightened my spine and nodded. She frowned. “You shouldn’t let him have milk after dinner.”
Before I could stop myself, I shot her an angry look. “I realize that now, Ava,” I snapped. Things had still been a little tense between us since the day she’d fought with Victor over going back to Kelli’s house. I kept my distance, trying to give her the space she seemed to need. Apparently, it hadn’t helped.
She rolled her eyes and wouldn’t meet my gaze. “C’mon, Max. Can you help me strip off your sheets? And then we’ll clean you up a little and get you back to sleep.” He nodded slowly and sniffled away his tears.
“Let me help you, too,” I said, taking a step toward them, but Ava held up a hand to stop me.
“It’s fine. I’ve got