When I asked why, his answer was always the same.
“Mom gets mad when I talk.”
I did what people tell fathers to do when they are scared and trying not to sound bitter.
I emailed his teacher.
I spoke with the school counselor.
I scheduled a child psychologist appointment.
I saved text messages.
I wrote down dates, pickup times, drop-off times, and the exact sentences Eli repeated more than once.
The first counselor note was clipped inside a folder by my desk.
A teacher’s email sat printed beneath it.
My phone held screenshots from three Sunday exchanges where Vanessa wrote that Eli was “attention seeking” or “confused after time with you.”
I had been documenting because I had learned a hard truth.
Fear sounds emotional.
