After He Kicked My Pregnant Wife

My grandfather planted his heavy leather work boot square into my mother’s pregnant belly.

Eight months along.

She let out a ragged, suffocating scream and hit the hardwood floor like a felled tree. Every drop of color drained from her face in an instant.

I lunged forward, falling to my knees beside her, my hands shaking so violently I could barely find purchase on her shoulders.

My father stood by the kitchen doorway.

Frozen.

Unmoving.

Five seconds ticked by.

He didn't roar. He didn't grab a kitchen knife. He didn't lunge across the room to break his father’s jaw.