I got home from my night shift much earlier than expected and found my five-year-old son asleep on the freezing kitchen floor.
When I picked him up, he whispered: “Mom, I don’t want to play Dad’s game anymore.
I get freezing cold when he leaves me down here all alone.” I froze. Then I looked toward the stairs.
And finally understood why my husband had not come downstairs all night.
PART 1 It was 5:18 in the morning when I returned early from the hospital in Denver, Colorado.
A scheduled surgery had been canceled, and after a twelve-hour shift, all I wanted was a shower and a few hours of sleep before getting my son ready for kindergarten.
Instead, I found five-year-old Ethan curled up on the kitchen tiles. A thin blanket covered him.
His favorite stuffed bear was pressed against his chest. His little feet were completely bare.
I rushed over and lifted him into my arms. That was when he whispered: “Mom, I don’t want to play Dad’s game anymore.
I get freezing cold when he leaves me down here all alone.” My stomach dropped.
“What game are you talking about, sweetie?” Ethan looked down. “The one where I have to stay down here until Dad comes back downstairs.”
I stared toward the staircase. “Is your dad upstairs right now?” He nodded.
“He is up there with Aunt Rachel.” My exhaustion disappeared instantly.
Rachel was my younger sister. I marched upstairs without even changing out of my hospital scrubs.
The moment I reached the hallway, the guest-room door opened. Rachel stepped out, hurriedly fixing her messy hair.
Right behind her came my husband, Daniel. His face drained of color. For several seconds, nobody spoke.
