Back in New York, I began to notice Claire coming home with more and more bruises. I began to worry, but Claire insisted that she was clumsy and fell down a lot.
It wasn't until I got a phone call from her teacher that I knew the truth.
"Has Claire told you about what occurred in class this morning?" Her teacher asked.
"No, what happened?"
"Well, recently she's had trouble with another student. This morning he was caught hitting Claire."
My baby. That's why she's come home with bruises on her arms. That's why she didn't want to go back to school.
Somebody has hurt my baby.
-:-
"Mommy, please don't be mad at me." Claire begged.
"I could never be mad at you. I'm upset you didn't tell me. I'm mad at the boy who hurt you."
Claire was silent. And for the first time since she was a baby, she cried. Claire cried and wept, terrified of me being angry with her. I cradled her in my arms, and insisted I wasn't mad.
Toby walked in, obviously aware of what happened to Claire.
"Is she okay?" Toby mouthed, in which I just responded with a shrug.
There was a knock at the door, and Toby answered it. I was unable to see the front door from the living room, but I could guess it wasn't good. Toby returned with a woman at his side.
A woman I hadn't seen in five years, despite our relationship.
Melissa.