I focus my attention on fishing for a tissue in my handbag to dab at the tears stinging my eyes. I’m shaking, but not from fear. Maybe a little. But mostly, I’m shaking with adrenaline at realizing that now, here, we’re about to have the conversation we should have had years ago.
My eyes land on Bambi’s phone.
And I get an insane idea.
“I want you to kick Martin to the curb and actually be a loving, supportive father and grandfather to your own f*****g family.” I sniffle and pretend to struggle with the cap of my lipstick. In reality, I’m swiping the phone screen so it starts recording.
With any luck, it will save whatever happens in here to Bambi’s cloud storage.
“Watch your tone with me, young lady.”
“Or you’ll what? Hit me? Kick me around like you used to? Good times, right?”
Dad
