Chapter 2 - THE CALENDAR
The pediatrician recommended we speak with a child therapist.
My first instinct was guilt.
Had it really gotten that bad?
Then I hated myself for asking the question.
A seven-year-old had been threatened into caring for an infant.
Of course it was that bad.
That evening, I sat with Rachel and went through the security archive again.
Not just the obvious days.
Every day.
We built a calendar.
Monday.
Melissa home most of the morning.
Tuesday.
Our daughter absent from school.
Melissa gone from 9:04 a.m. until 4:31 p.m.
Wednesday.
Normal.
Thursday.
Another school absence.
Melissa gone five hours.
Friday.
Our daughter attended school.
Saturday.
Melissa disappeared for three hours while I was working overtime.
That day, she had told me she was taking the children to visit her mother.
She had lied.
The pattern stretched back almost seven weeks.
Sometimes my daughter was alone with the baby for two hours.
Sometimes four.
Three times, more than seven.
I counted eleven full or partial school days.
Eleven.
I remembered getting attendance emails.
Melissa always explained them before I asked.
Stomach bug.
Headache.
Low fever.
Bad cough.
Every excuse sounded ordinary.
Because ordinary lies are the easiest ones to believe.
Rachel printed the calendar.
“You need to stop looking tonight.”
“I can’t.”
“You’ve watched the same footage four times.”
“I keep thinking I missed something.”
“You did.”
I looked at her.
“You missed it while it was happening.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to punish yourself forever.”
I leaned back.
“I should have known.”
Rachel’s voice softened.
“She designed it so you wouldn’t.”
Then she pointed at the screen.
“At least now you do.”
At 9:17 p.m., Melissa sent another message.
I want to see my children tomorrow.
James advised me not to respond until the court ruled.
At 10:02, another message appeared.
If you keep them from me, I’ll tell everyone what you’re really like.
I stared at it.
Then saved a screenshot.
My daughter walked into the room carrying her stuffed rabbit.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Is Mom coming back?”
I hesitated.
“I don’t know when.”
Her fingers tightened around the rabbit.
Then she asked something I was not ready for.
“If she comes back, do I have to watch the baby again?”
“No.”
I answered immediately.
“Never like that again.”
She nodded.
Then she whispered, “Promise?”
May you like
“I promise.”
That was the first promise in my marriage I knew I would keep no matter what it cost.
