Part 2: Two Hours
Upstairs, Dustin’s suitcase was almost empty.
That made no sense.
I had packed enough clothing for two weeks.
“Where are your things?” I asked.
He pointed toward the closet.
Most of his clothes had been pushed into a plastic grocery bag on the floor. Mason’s shirts and shorts were hanging neatly from Dustin’s hangers.
“What happened here?”
Dustin stared at his shoes.
“Grandma said Mason needed more room because he’s growing faster.”
I closed my eyes for a moment.
“Did they do anything else?”
He hesitated.
That pause told me there was more.
“They said I couldn’t use the big bathroom anymore. I had to wash in the laundry room sink.”
My heart pounded, but I kept my voice calm.
“You’re not in trouble. I need you to tell me the truth.”
“They took the blue remote-control truck you bought me. Grandma said Mason deserved it because he has a real grandmother.”
I sat on the edge of the bed.
Dustin finally looked at me.
His eyes were not filled with anger.
They were filled with confusion.
“Mom, am I not part of Dad’s family because he isn’t my first dad?”
Parker had been in Dustin’s life since he was three. Dustin’s biological father had left before his first birthday and had not contacted us in years.
Parker attended school events, taught Dustin to ride a bicycle, and sat beside him through every fever and nightmare.
At home, Parker called him “my boy.”
But apparently, when Parker wasn’t around, his mother and sister had a different definition of family.
I pulled Dustin into my arms.
“You are not less than anyone,” I whispered. “You never have to earn a place at a table where you are supposed to be loved.”
Downstairs, drawers slammed and suitcases scraped across the floor.
Ellie was speaking loudly on the phone.
I couldn’t hear Parker’s responses, but I heard her version of events.
“Clarissa stormed in like a maniac.”
“Dustin was throwing things all morning.”
“Mom only gave him a simple lunch because his stomach was upset.”
“She threatened us in front of the children.”
Every sentence was a lie.
Ten minutes later, Parker called me.
“What is going on?” he asked.
His voice was tense.
“Come to the house,” I said.
“I’m in the middle of work.”
“Then leave work.”
“Clarissa, Ellie says you threw food and threatened Mom.”
“I threw away one cold potato. That was all they gave Dustin while the rest of them ate fried chicken.”
There was silence.
Then Parker sighed.
“I’m sure there’s more to the story.”
The words landed harder than I expected.
“There is,” I replied. “And you should come hear it from your wife and your son before deciding which version you believe.”
I ended the call.
I wasn’t asking him to choose between me and his family.
I was asking him to choose between the truth and a lie.
