That was going to be one of those nice, everyday times.
We went to our regular diner on a Saturday morning. He got pancakes, and I got burnt toast (don’t ask). His favorite dinosaur cup was sitting proudly next to a plate of fruit and syrup. I took out my phone to take a picture, maybe to send to my mom or post later with a silly line.
He looked up at me with sleepy eyes and a mess of hair. “Okay, give me a big smile,” I told him.
He didn’t smile, though; he just raised one hand.
Do not wave. Not to make a point.
He just put out his hand, palm up, and looked at me. It was such an intentional and strange movement that I stopped for a moment. I didn’t know what he was doing or if he knew what he was doing. But when I looked more closely, I felt sick. His fingers were shaking just a little. That’s when I saw it: his wrist had a small but clear bruise.
My heart was pounding in my chest as I put down my phone right away. I tried to keep my cool and said, “Hey, buddy.” “What did you do to your wrist?”
It wasn’t an answer. He just put his hand down and used his fork to move his pancakes around. His face looked very serious, way too serious for a five-year-old. It was clear he didn’t want to talk about it.
“Did someone hurt you?” My voice was shaking with worry as I asked in a soft voice. I got closer to him and tried to look him in the eyes. I had to understand what was going on.
When he looked up at me, his little face scrunched up in surprise, but I could see doubt in his eyes. I knew he wasn’t telling me everything.
The very next time I reached out to touch his hand, he jerked away, making me feel cold all the way through. “Dude, don’t worry. Tell me. You won’t get hurt.
His eyes went to the door, and I saw a flash of fear in them for a split second. I felt sick to my stomach as my fear grew. I knew deep down that this wasn’t a normal mistake. There was something going on. What, though? He could have told me, so why didn’t he?
I heard a voice behind me before I could ask another question.
“Is everything okay over here?”
When I turned around, Tom was there. My ex-husband. He looked just as put-together as ever. As he fixed the collar of his shirt, he had a small smile on his face.
To hide my shock, I couldn’t. Why did he come here? He hadn’t come to see us much, if at all, since we got divorced more than a year ago. Seeing him out of the blue made my heart skip a beat. When I looked back at my son, he looked even worse. His eyes were downcast, like he was praying no one would notice.
Ask Tom, “Why are you here?” My voice was a little sharper than I meant when I asked. Putting some room between him and the table, I quickly stood up. My instincts were on high alert.
“You know, I wanted to surprise you two.” And it had been a while. He tried to sound relaxed, but his voice had a strange, almost nervous quality to it.
My heart was still beating fast. When I looked at my son again, he was still moving his food around and not looking at me.
“I’m not sure it’s a good time,” I said strongly, looking at my son’s wrist again. The bruise there looked like a silent scream back at me.
For a moment, Tom’s face changed into a small frown, but he quickly covered it up with a smile. “My only goal was to check on both of you. There’s no harm in that, right?”
A knot formed in my stomach as I shook my head. There was a problem. It was making me feel bad that everything had become so tense in the few seconds since Tom walked in. Then I understood: it wasn’t just my son’s wrist that was hurt. What he did was also bad. He jerked back when I tried to touch him, and he looked at the door like he wanted to get away.
“Did you hurt him?” I asked with a voice that was just above a whisper but still clear.
Tom’s eyes got bigger. He looked shocked and almost angry. “What?” How could you say that?”
I wasn’t going to let this go, though. Not now.
“That look has been seen before,” I said, my voice shaking but steady. “The manner in which he avoids me and acts. There is a problem, I know it. Also, I know you were here last week. “Did you hurt him?”
In an instant, Tom’s face turned serious. He took a small step back and raised his hands as if to protect himself. “You’re not certain about what you say.” I would never—
“Then what is the bump?” As I stood up, I cut him off. My instincts told me to protect my son. “Tom, what’s wrong?” I’m not hearing him. I know it’s because of you that he’s scared.
When Tom looked at our son, his eyes twitched uncomfortably. He didn’t say anything for a short time. He let out a sigh and scratched the back of his neck. “Okay, I guess I was too rough with him.” But you don’t get it—he was just being tough, and I couldn’t handle it.
My heart started to beat faster. “Did you hit him?”
He said with a protective tone, “I didn’t mean to!” “I was only trying to correct him.” I was angry because he wouldn’t give in, okay? I did not wish for him to believe that he could do anything. I meant to be nice to him.
The words hurt my gut like a punch. It was hard for me to believe what I was hearing. This was the same man who had told me he would always look out for our son, but now he was denying what was clearly abuse.
I didn’t wait around any longer. I looked at my son, who was still sitting there. He had a pale face and wide, scared eyes. I got on my knees next to him and gently cupped his face, making him look at me. “Don’t worry, friend. Now you’re safe. You won’t get hurt. “You no longer need to be scared.”
Tom took a step back, and his voice grew quieter. “You’re reacting too much.”
But I stopped paying attention. I got up and pulled my son along with me by his hand. He didn’t say a word, but I could see tears coming to his eyes. He was too scared to talk.
I looked at Tom one last time. “I’m getting him.” You won’t see him again until you get help.
“Wait, you can’t just—”
But I had already left the diner with my son by my side. I no longer cared about what Tom had to say. To keep the peace, I couldn’t put my son’s life at risk.
After calling the police and making sure everything was done properly, I didn’t find out the truth about what had been going on until much later. Tom had been getting more and more angry for months, and his behavior had gotten worse, especially around our son. He had told himself that what he was doing was right because he knew that being disciplined meant hurting the people you cared about. But that’s not being disciplined. That’s being abusive.
What’s the twist? When the case went to court, Tom’s family spoke out. It turned out that they knew about his behavior for years but didn’t do anything about it because they were afraid. That’s what they saw in him, too. Things I didn’t notice about him when we were married, either out of love or fear, or maybe both. After all was said and done, the truth came out, and Tom was told to go to anger management therapy and regular psychological exams.
It was a fresh start for my son and me. We were able to find peace, and I told myself that I would never let fear run our lives again.
The twist in karma? By helping my son, I gave Tom a chance he never asked for: a chance to change, to see his flaws, and hopefully to become a better person. It was more important that I found my own power, which made me the protector I had always wanted to be.
If this sounds like you, don’t let fear stop you from doing the right thing. Things can be changed by you. Do it yourself instead of waiting for someone else to do it.
Please tell this story to someone today who might need it. Let’s all be strong enough to look out for the people we care about.