“Grandpa… the camera is on.”
I froze with Tommy in my arms. “What camera, my boy?” His lips were dry. His eyes were narrow and heavy, as if he had been given something so he couldn’t defend himself or say a word. “The one from your present… the red toy car… I hid it.”
I felt my soul return to my body and leave again. Two months ago, I had given him a remote-control car, one of those simple ones, with a cheap little camera I bought at a local flea market because Tommy said he wanted to film “car chase movies.” I didn’t quite know how it worked, but he did. He had always been smart about those things. Quiet, skinny, with a scared look on his face, but smart.
Robert walked over quickly. “What is he saying to you?” he yelled. “Give him to me, Dad!” I pulled my grandson tighter to my chest. “Don’t come near me.”
Jennifer came up behind him, her eyes wide. She no longer looked like the elegant lady in the red dress, nor the perfect wife from the family photos. She looked like someone caught with her hands in something rotten. “Joe, please,” she said, her voice changing. “You’re misunderstanding everything. Tommy threw a tantrum, locked himself in all by himself, and you’re making a scene.” “Locked himself in the laundry room? With the door jammed from the outside?”
Robert turned to look at her. It was just for a second, but I saw it. He didn’t know everything. Or he didn’t want to know. And when a father doesn’t want to know, he becomes guilty, too.
The sirens stopped in front of the house. Red and blue lights began pouring through the windows, painting the living room as if Christmas had turned into a crime scene. Jennifer rushed to fix her hair. Robert wiped his face, took a deep breath, and opened the door before they even knocked. “Officers, thank you for coming. My father broke into my house without permission and is trying to take my son.”
Two police officers walked in. A young one, with a look that said he didn’t want any trouble on Christmas Eve, and a woman with a hard gaze, the kind who doesn’t fall for just any story. “Sir, put the child down,” the male officer told me. “I can’t,” I answered. “He’s not well. He’s dizzy.” “My son is sick,” Jennifer rushed to say. “He has anxiety. My father-in-law doesn’t understand boundaries. Ever since his wife died, he’s been… unstable.”
That word hurt me more than I wanted to admit. Unstable. As if missing my Mary made me a liar. As if living alone made me dangerous. As if having wrinkles was a sentence.
The female officer approached Tommy. “What’s your name, buddy?” Tommy didn’t answer. He gripped my shirt with one hand. “He’s being manipulated,” Robert said. “My dad puts ideas in his head.”
I looked at him, and for a second I didn’t see the man in front of me. I saw the little boy who once asked me to teach him how to weld. I saw the kid who cried when his dog died. I saw the son whose mother hugged him until her very last day. And it hurt to think of what Mary would say if she saw him there, defending the person who had hidden his own son in a laundry room. “Robert,” I told him, my voice breaking, “look at him.” “Don’t start, Dad.” “Look at him!”
Tommy lifted his head slightly. He had a red mark on his wrist. A mark I hadn’t seen earlier because his sleeve was covering it. The female officer noticed it too. “What happened there?” Jennifer answered entirely too fast. “He scratched himself playing.” “It wasn’t playing,” whispered Tommy.
Everyone went completely still. The officer knelt down in front of him. “What was it, Tommy?” My grandson swallowed hard. He looked over at Jennifer and then hid his face in my chest. “I can’t say.” “Of course you can,” I whispered in his ear. “I’m right here.”
Robert exploded. “Enough! My son is tired, my dad is putting on a circus, and you people are wasting your time.” The officer held up her hand to silence him. “Sir, sit down.” “This is my house.” “And I am telling you to sit down.”
Robert clenched his jaw, but he obeyed. Jennifer didn’t. She stood frozen, looking down the hallway, as if calculating how many steps she needed to reach Tommy’s room first. Then I remembered what my grandson had told me. The camera. “The red toy car,” I murmured. Tommy opened his eyes. “Backpack… closet… at the bottom.”
The officer heard him. “What’s in the backpack?” Jennifer took a step forward. “You have no right to search anything without a warrant.” The officer looked her up and down. “Why are you so worried about a backpack?” “Because it’s my house.” “That’s not what I asked.”
