He saw me come out and forced a placating smile onto his face.
“Wendy, I wasn't myself last night. Too tired—I let my temper get the better of me.”
“Go wake up our son for breakfast.”
Ethan came out after washing up, backpack slung over one shoulder, and sat down at the table.
He kept his head down over his congee and didn't give Jeffrey so much as a glance.
Jeffrey rubbed his hands together, visibly awkward.
“Son, eat up.”
“I'm absolutely not working overtime today. I'll drive you to the exam site myself.”
“It's still raining out there. You'll be more comfortable in my car.”
He thumped his chest, all confidence and guarantees.
Ethan's chopsticks paused for a beat. He still said nothing.
Jeffrey finished the last bite of his fried egg and went to the entryway for the car keys.
“Let's go. It's about time.”
The second his hand touched the keys,
his phone rang right on cue from his pocket.
One look at the screen and his whole expression tightened.
The call connected, and Monica Fox's tear-choked voice carried through the quiet living room with perfect clarity.
“Jeffrey, Marjorie's falling apart.”
“She's so anxious her stomach is cramping. She keeps throwing up and crying, saying she's too scared to go take the exam.”
“I can't handle her on my own. Can you please come help?”
“She always listens to you the most.”
Jeffrey's hand clenched tight around the phone.
He turned and glanced at me and Ethan, eyes shifting, unable to hold either of our gazes.
“Monica, hey, don't panic—get Marjorie some warm water, I'm on my way……”
He caught himself halfway through the sentence and swallowed the rest.
He set the car keys down and walked back to the table.
“Wendy, something urgent came up at the department.”
“A patient's family is causing a scene. I need to get over there and handle it.”
“Sorry to trouble you, but could you take him again?”
I set my glass of milk down and stared straight at him.
“Is it a patient's family causing a scene, or is it Monica Fox's daughter with stomach cramps?”
Jeffrey's expression froze solid on his face.
His mouth opened and closed. It took him a long time to squeeze out a single sentence.
“You heard the whole thing. What do you want me to say?”
“That kid Marjorie can't handle pressure. I'm a doctor. What am I supposed to do, just stand by and watch?”
“I have a duty to help. Can you stop being so selfish about this?”
The words “a duty to help” almost made me laugh out loud.
The memory hit before I could stop it—Ethan, the night before his high school entrance exam.
He'd spiked a fever out of nowhere, temperature shooting past a hundred and four, his face burning red and his whole body shaking.
I was out of my mind with panic, calling Jeffrey over and over.
I needed him to drive us to the hospital.
He didn't pick up once.
I called thirteen times.
When the last call finally connected, the background noise was the hum of equipment in a dental clinic.
Monica's sugary voice drifted through the line: “Jeffrey's with Marjorie at the dentist—she's getting a tooth pulled and she's so scared she won't let go of his hand.”
That night, I carried my son on my back, a boy already taller than me, and stood on the street trying to flag down a taxi for half an hour.
Ethan nearly missed his high school entrance exam—the fever had seized his whole body and wouldn't let go.
Afterward, Jeffrey knelt in the hospital corridor.
He slapped himself across the face, both sides, hard, more than a dozen times.
“Wendy, I was wrong. I swear I didn't know he was that sick.”
“I promise, no matter what happens from now on, our son comes first. Always.”
“If I ever break my word again, let God strike me down.”
Those vows were still ringing in my ears.
And now, he had broken his word again.
For Monica Fox's daughter and a stomach cramp, he walked out on his own son minutes before the college entrance exam.
