I Almost Hurt Arthur—Until That Afternoon's Security Footage Told Me Otherwise.-8
Toby's Helplessness
Toby returned to an ice-cold house. Marianne’s door was shut. I sat crumpled on the living room rug, eyes swollen, staring blankly at Arthur asleep in his rocker. Toby loosened his tie, gaze flickering between us and the closed door. "Today..." he ventured softly, crouching beside me. "We fought," I rasped, eyes fixed on Arthur. His cool hand, smelling of outside air, settled tentatively on my shoulder. "She... she isn't bad," he struggled, voice thick with exhaustion.
"You know that. She just... wants to help too much. Maybe... the wrong way." He rubbed his temples. "When she... when I was born... she really struggled... barely made it." I jerked my head up. He’d never shared this. Toby avoided my eyes. "Maybe... she’s just terrified you’ll go through that too." His sigh was leaden.
An Unplanned Review
Toby was called back to the office. Marianne’s room remained silent. Arthur stirred, whimpering in his rocker. I lifted him; he burrowed into my neck. Pacing the living room, I patted his back. My gaze snagged on the baby monitor receiver in the corner—a small black box with a steady green light.
Toby had installed it for peace of mind. I rarely used the playback. But the image of Marianne taking Arthur earlier haunted me. After the fight, she’d emerged, hand outstretched: "I’ll take him." What expression had she worn? Holding Arthur, I approached the monitor. Screen dark. I pressed 'Power'. It glowed blue. Options: Live View. Playback. Settings. My hand hovered. Palm damp. I didn't know what I sought. Perhaps nothing. Yet my finger pressed 'Playback'. Selected today. 2:17 PM. Right after the confrontation. The screen flickered.
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Toby returned to an ice-cold house. Marianne’s door was shut. I sat crumpled on the living room rug, eyes swollen, staring blankly at Arthur asleep in his rocker. Toby loosened his tie, gaze flickering between us and the closed door. "Today..." he ventured softly, crouching beside me. "We fought," I rasped, eyes fixed on Arthur. His cool hand, smelling of outside air, settled tentatively on my shoulder. "She... she isn't bad," he struggled, voice thick with exhaustion.
"You know that. She just... wants to help too much. Maybe... the wrong way." He rubbed his temples. "When she... when I was born... she really struggled... barely made it." I jerked my head up. He’d never shared this. Toby avoided my eyes. "Maybe... she’s just terrified you’ll go through that too." His sigh was leaden.
An Unplanned Review
Toby was called back to the office. Marianne’s room remained silent. Arthur stirred, whimpering in his rocker. I lifted him; he burrowed into my neck. Pacing the living room, I patted his back. My gaze snagged on the baby monitor receiver in the corner—a small black box with a steady green light.
Toby had installed it for peace of mind. I rarely used the playback. But the image of Marianne taking Arthur earlier haunted me. After the fight, she’d emerged, hand outstretched: "I’ll take him." What expression had she worn? Holding Arthur, I approached the monitor. Screen dark. I pressed 'Power'. It glowed blue. Options: Live View. Playback. Settings. My hand hovered. Palm damp. I didn't know what I sought. Perhaps nothing. Yet my finger pressed 'Playback'. Selected today. 2:17 PM. Right after the confrontation. The screen flickered.
NEXT >>