Eric went silent.
Ruby picked up another block and carefully placed it on her tower.
Diane watched her do it.
Then she asked the question I had been waiting three weeks to hear someone from Eric’s family ask.
“What about your children?”
Eric answered too quickly.
“Obviously I love my kids.”
“Then when did you last see them?”
His silence lasted longer this time.
I looked away.
Diane noticed.
“Eric?”
“I’ve been trying to give everyone space.”
I finally spoke.
“You haven’t asked to see them.”
His voice changed the instant he heard mine.
“Oh, so I’m on speaker now?”
“You have been from the beginning,” Diane said.
“That’s unbelievable.”
“No,” I said.
“What’s unbelievable is that you still haven’t asked how they are.”
“I knew this was going to turn into an ambush.”
Diane’s eyes widened.
An hour earlier, she might have agreed with him.
Now she looked almost startled by how naturally he had made himself the victim.
“No one ambushed you,” she said.
“I asked you two questions.”
Eric gave a bitter laugh.
“You’re hearing one side of it.”
Diane looked directly at me.
I could almost see the words What did you do to him passing through her mind again.
Then she looked at Milo.
He was chewing on the corner of a soft toy, completely unaware that his father’s voice was coming from a phone six feet away.
“Then give me your side,” Diane said.
Eric began again.
He said I had been distant.
He said I was always tired.
He said I never wanted to go anywhere anymore.
He said every time he came home, there was some problem waiting for him.
Milo needed feeding.
Ruby needed bathing.
Laundry needed folding.
Something needed buying.
Someone needed soothing.
With every sentence, Diane’s expression changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
A slight narrowing of her eyes.
A slow lowering of the page in her hand.
A glance toward the bottle drying rack visible from the living room.
Finally she interrupted him.
“You’re describing two small children.”
Eric stopped.
“What?”
“You’re describing what having two small children is like.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
