She picked it up.
And her face drained of color.
It was a photograph from the previous Christmas.
Emma and Noah were standing beside the tree.
Their cousins were gathered around them.
But unlike everyone else, my children weren’t smiling.
Emma was looking down.
Noah was looking toward my mother.
Someone had taken the picture without my knowing.
On the back was written:
This is what you called “consequences.”
My mother’s fingers tightened around the photograph.
“No.”
My father picked up the next document.
His eyes moved across the page.
Then stopped.
“What is this?”
My mother looked at him.
“I don’t know.”
He read the first line again.
Then again.
His face changed.
“Diane…”
“What?”
“You need to sit down.”
She didn’t.
“What is it?”
He slowly placed the paper on the table.
It was a legal notice.
And beneath it was a familiar address.
