Dennis turned on me.
“You did this? You little —”
“Careful,” I said, stepping forward.
“You want to talk about how you left your injured wife alone in a two-story house and went fishing?”
“I — she said she was fine!”
“She said that because she was scared,” I said sharply.
“You gave her an order and left. You didn’t care how she managed.”
The inspector said, “We’ll need to conduct an assessment and possibly open a case. Given the medical condition involved, this could escalate depending on the findings.”
Dennis started pacing in the snow, waving his arms.
“This is insane!
I didn’t do anything illegal! It’s snowing!
Everybody shovels snow!”
“Not everybody has a fractured femur while doing it,” I said coldly.
Kylie looked at him as if she had never seen him before.
“You embarrassed me,” he said to my mom, suddenly. “In front of the city, in front of the neighbors —”
I cut him off.
“You made her clean so you wouldn’t be embarrassed in front of Kylie.
Remember?”
Kylie turned back to my mom and took her hand gently. “I’m so sorry. I’m also sorry on his behalf.
For all of this.
You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”
My mom gave a weak smile. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I helped my mom out of the passenger seat of the car and into the backseat.
Kylie helped me fold the blankets over her lap.
Dennis was still standing there, shouting at the inspector, red-faced and furious. But nobody paid him much attention anymore.
The driveway was still buried.
The porch was unusable, and every window was pressed in by thick walls of packed snow.
It was a fortress of cold and silence. We drove away.
I brought my mom home with me that night. We made soup, and I helped her change into soft pajamas.
She filed for divorce two weeks later.
And Dennis? Well, last I heard, he tried to dig the snow out himself.
Slipped on the porch and twisted his back. Karma really does wear boots sometimes.
The house sat empty for a while.
The neighborhood kids started calling it the ice palace.
People slowed down when they drove by. Some took pictures. I didn’t care.
But in my small apartment, my mom healed.
She took long naps and drank hot tea with honey. I brought her flowers every Friday.
One night, she said, “You really saved me, you know.”
“I just did what anyone would’ve done.”
“Not everyone would’ve seen through me.
You did.”
She laughed a full, real laugh. And that was the sound I’d missed the most.
Was the main character right or wrong?
Let’s discuss it in the Facebook comments.
