I spread the laminated card beside the recorder and matched the gold stars to the dates Claire had spent telling me Mia was struggling with our marriage. The pattern was too clean to dismiss. Each time Claire had described a bad week, another star had appeared.
Then Mia reached into the backpack again.
She slid her fingers beneath the stiff cardboard at the bottom and pulled out a folded blue sheet I had never seen before.
It was covered in Claire’s handwriting.
There were columns for dates, whether Mia had cried, whether I had asked what was wrong, whether I had moved toward her, and whether she had pressed the black button. Beside the eleven completed lines were three empty ones.
Three future dates.
The next was only four days away.
My hands went cold.
Mia watched my face and immediately whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’
I pushed the paper away from myself because the last thing I wanted was for her to think she was the one who had done something wrong.
‘Mia, you don’t need to be sorry. I just need to know one thing. Did Mommy tell you what those boxes mean?’
She nodded.
According to Mia, Claire called them her safety lessons. Before I came home, Claire would review the rules with her. If Mia cried and remembered not to answer me, she earned a gold star. If she forgot and talked to me normally while we were alone, Claire told her they would have to practice again.
I asked what happened when she forgot to press the button.
Mia looked toward the recorder.
‘Mommy gets upset.’
That was when the speaker crackled again.
Claire’s voice came through softly.
‘Mia, press the black button now.’
Mia flinched.
I didn’t touch the device. Instead, I moved my chair farther from her and placed my phone on the table where both of us could see it.
Then I spoke toward the recorder.
‘Claire, Mia gave me the card.’
Silence.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then Claire said, ‘Mia, take your backpack to your room.’
