Chapter 3 - Watching Him Disappear
Over the next two weeks, I watched something quietly break in my son.
Whenever Diane walked into a room, Milo scooped his dolls into his arms and disappeared upstairs like he'd been caught doing something shameful.
He stopped bringing his newest projects to the dinner table to show off. He stopped humming while he sewed — that little tune he always hummed without realizing it.
One night, he whispered into the dark, "Mom? Does Grandma hate me?"
"No, baby," I said, smoothing his hair back. "Grandma's just scared of things she doesn't understand."
"But she's always right about stuff," he said. "That's what she keeps telling everybody."
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I held him tighter and told myself I'd keep smoothing things over, the way I always did. Looking back, that was my mistake.
Every time Adam or I pushed back, Diane would raise her hands, put on that patient little smile, and insist she was only preparing Milo for "the real world." In truth, she was just waiting — waiting for the moment none of us were watching.
