There are tulips blooming in front yard flowerbeds and the air smells full and mossy. It’s not quite dark when I get home. The door to the sun porch is open wide and the door to the living room isn’t closed all the way. I hear Ethan say, “That wasn’t what I meant,” and his voice is full of tears.

I stand on the sun porch and peek through the open door. There’s a man in the living room holding Ethan against the wall. Ethan’s nose is bleeding down his neck. I hold my breath and push the living room door open slowly.

The guy screams, “You’re the one who should be sorry. You’re the one who had such a big problem with it!” He’s screaming so loud he doesn’t hear me come in.

When Ethan sees me, he turns his face away. The guy slaps Ethan’s cheek, and then the other. “Look at me when I talk to you!”

My body feels like it might never move again, but Ethan is crying and the guy doesn’t look like he’s going to stop. I’m still holding the groceries, so I grab the jar of sauce and throw it at the guy. It hits with a thump between his shoulders and falls to the floor, exploding, sending sauce and glass everywhere. “Stop!” I scream. “Stop!”

He drops his hold on Ethan and turns. His face is bloated, cheeks trembling. Red eyes. Raw knuckles. He looks like he’s going to come after me instead. I chuck a pepper and catch him on the side of his head and then an onion that hits him right in the eye and I scream and scream and throw everything from the bag. I pretend I’m bigger than him and bigger than everyone and if I look at him hard enough, he might just burn up and die. He might turn into nothing. He gets in my face. His breath smells so sour. I can see in his eyes he’s deciding if he’s going to hit me too. I’m all out of groceries. There’s nothing else to throw. He grabs my hair, all of it, in his fist and pulls me out of his way. Away from the door and I don’t know what he’s going to do. He pulls so hard. I stumble. Hit the floor, hip first. All I can think about is the bruise it will leave. Dark purple. I can feel my blood pooling.

“You like little girls now?” he says to Ethan.

“Go!” Ethan screams. “Ivan! Leave!” His face is wet, nose pouring snot and blood, all the color drained right out of him.