He turned toward Noah.
“Go get your backpack.”
The boy looked confused.
“Why?”
“I want to see your lunch account.”
Renee laughed in disbelief.
“You are auditing the children now?”
“I’m checking facts.”
“That is what you do instead of parenting.”
Damon looked at her.
“Maybe.”
The admission stopped her.
He continued.
“Maybe I should have checked more facts sooner.”
Noah returned with his school tablet.
Damon logged into the parent portal.
Lunch purchases.
Monday: none.
Tuesday: none.
Wednesday: none.
Thursday: none.
The previous week showed the same pattern.
The week before that, two lunches.
Before January?
Almost daily.
He looked at Renee.
“How long?”
She stared at the table.
“How long have you been restricting food?”
“I am not restricting food.”
“Then tell me why my son stopped buying lunch in January.”
“He was wasting money.”
“He is eight.”
“He threw away half of it.”
“So you canceled lunch?”
“I packed food.”
Noah shook his head.
“Sometimes.”
Damon looked at him.
“What did she pack?”
The boy shrugged.
“Apple.”
“Anything else?”
“Cheese stick.”
Damon closed his eyes.
Renee snapped:
“He eats breakfast.”
“That is not lunch.”
“He comes home at three.”
“And then?”
“He gets a snack if he’s earned it.”
Damon stared.
“Do you hear yourself?”
“Yes.”
She stepped forward.
“I hear a mother trying to stop two children from running the house.”
Damon looked at Ava.
Then Noah.
“Go upstairs.”
Both children froze.
Renee laughed bitterly.
“Now you’re sending them away.”
Damon ignored her.
He looked at Noah.
“Take Ava to my room.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to talk to Mom privately.”
Noah looked uncertain.
Damon crouched.
“You are not in trouble.”
The boy nodded.
Ava tightened her arms around Damon.
“No.”
“I’m coming upstairs.”
“No.”
“Ava.”
“Don’t stay.”
Damon’s throat tightened.
“Stay where?”
“With her.”
Renee went pale.
Ava buried her face.
Damon looked at his wife.
He made a decision.
“Okay.”
He did not put Ava down.
He told Noah:
“Call Grandma Denise.”
Renee stared.
“What?”
“Call her.”
Noah knew how.
Denise Brooks lived twelve minutes away.
Damon’s mother arrived in nine.
She walked into the kitchen wearing yoga pants, a Howard University sweatshirt, and an expression that told Damon she had ignored at least three traffic laws.
“What happened?”
Then she saw Ava’s cheek.
Denise stopped.
“Oh.”
Renee immediately said:
“It was an accident.”