Maddy struggled, and Tyler tried to keep hold of her.

“She’s hurting me,” he said.

“Damn it. The batteries died.”

Tyler whined.

“Sit still and stop being such a baby!” Mary yelled. Josie winced, and Mary ran up the stairs. “Just watch them while I get more batteries,” she said.

Maddy squirmed, Tyler held her tighter, and Josie felt their struggle hit her hard in the chest. She told herself she should take the baby from him or just walk away—out of the house and away from all three of them—but she stayed, her feet cemented to the floor. She watched Tyler’s face contort, watched Maddy squirm desperately in his arms, watched the red of her dress and the blue of his overalls twist together; Maddy’s fist, small and soft, on his chin; Tyler’s palms, flat and determined, against her back; and then the baby was tumbling, landing bottom down on the floor, and Josie’s vision tunneled. She saw only Tyler’s shoulder, one overall strap fastened securely on his chest, and in one swift movement, she grabbed it, swung him close to her, and with her other hand tilted his chin up to her. “You,” she said. She dug her fingertips into his soft skin, and he began to cry. “You!” She could do it, slap him squarely across the face. But instantly, Mary was in front of Josie, the empty battery package still in her hand, asking Tyler what in the world he was crying about, and Josie felt thrown back into herself, her hand still entangled in Tyler’s overall strap, her nails dug into her palm.

“All right; fine. I guess that’s the end of the pictures,” Mary said and picked up Madeline. “Jesus, Tyler, what are you crying about now?”

Tyler covered his face with his hands, and Josie had to restrain herself from crying out and pulling him tightly into her arms.

“Well?” Mary asked.

Josie could feel the shame seep in, and yet along with that was something else—gratitude. Maybe it would be over now. The confrontation the entire household had been recently inching toward could lie just ahead. Tyler could tell Mary, and in a few minutes Josie could be packing her bags. Instead, he lied, mumbled into his palms, and said, “Maddy hit me.”

“Hit you? She has no muscle in her arms; that’s what you’re crying about? Ridiculous. Go wash your face.”