The Note Under the Table
He had done his part; he had given his statement to the detective, clear and unshaking, and I was not going to let a courtroom make my son perform his own near-murder for an audience.
Justice, when it came, did not feel like the end of a film.
There was no swell of music.
It was a fluorescent-lit room, and a verdict read in a bored clerk’s voice, and four people later sitting around a diner table finally able to breathe air that wasn’t heavy with fear.
Kai was working through an enormous slice of chocolate cake when I came in from the last of the paperwork.
“Is it all over, Mom?” he asked, setting down his fork.