“Monica is staying here.”
“It’s her father’s birthday party and she’s not going to come out just because you’re getting angry.”
“This isn’t a tantrum,” I replied firmly, protecting Monika behind me. “This is protecting my granddaughter from further humiliation.”
“Humiliation?” Paula laughed that fake laugh that grated on my nerves. “Emily, I think you should calm down. You’re seeing ghosts where there aren’t any.”
But I’d seen enough. Over the past two years, since Michael married Paula, I’d noticed disturbing changes in my granddaughter. Monika was no longer the same cheerful, spontaneous girl I knew. She became quiet, shy, and constantly apologizing for everything.
“Ghosts?” I repeated. “You know what? You’re right. I’ve seen things I’d rather ignore.”
I knelt down next to Monika and spoke to her gently.
“Honey, remember when you told me you didn’t want to sleep over at Mom and Dad’s anymore?”
Monika nodded shyly.
Paula immediately tensed. “Why did you tell me that, honey?” I continued, even though I already knew the answer.
« Because Mom gets so angry, » Monika whispered. « And when she gets angry, she says terrible things to me. »
“What ugly things?” Paula interrupted him abruptly.
« Enough. I will not allow you to manipulate my daughter against me. »
“Manipulate?” I asked, standing up. “I’m just asking why my granddaughter is afraid to be in her own home.”
“She’s not afraid,” Paula shouted. “She’s just making things up because you spoil her too much.”
But Monika began to speak with a trembling voice.
« Mommy says I’m a bad girl. She says it’s my fault Daddy doesn’t love her as much as he used to. »
I felt my blood curdle.
“What else does he tell you, my love?”
She says, « I’m just as annoying as Grandma Emily, we’re both nosy and we ruin everything. »
My granddaughter’s words landed like bombs in the middle of the room. Brenda covered her mouth with her hands. Jonathan shook his head in obvious irritation. Paula blushed like a tomato.
“That’s not true!” Paula shouted. “That girl is lying.”
“A six-year-old girl lies about something so specific?” I asked incredulously. “A girl who can’t even come up with complex lies.”
« Yes, because you’re manipulating her. »
Just then, Michael showed up with a beer in his hand, clearly annoyed at the interruption of the party.
« What’s going on now? Why all the shouting? »
“Your wife said terrible things to your daughter,” I explained, trying to stay calm.
“And now it turns out the girl is lying.”
Michael sighed in irritation.
« Mom, Paula wouldn’t say nasty things to Monica. You’re the one jumping to conclusions. »
“Did you overreact?” I blurted out. “Michael, look at your daughter. Look at her shaved head. Look at her trembling with fear.”
« She’s shaking because you’re scaring her with all these questions. »
Michael replied without even looking at Monica: « You’re creating unnecessary drama. »
I couldn’t believe my son’s blindness. His daughter was clearly in shock, and he refused to acknowledge it.
“Okay,” I said in a dangerously calm voice. “If you think I’m crazy, let me ask Monika something in front of everyone.”
I knelt down again next to my granddaughter.
“Monika, when your mom cut your hair yesterday, did you cry?”
« Yes, Grandma. »
“What did she say to you when you cried?”
Monica looked at her mother in horror. Paula glared at her.
« You can tell me, honey. No one will judge you. »
Monica whispered in a barely audible voice, « She told me that ugly girls cry a lot and that if I continued to cry, she would cut off my eyelashes too. »
The silence that fell was deafening. Even the music seemed to fade. Brenda pressed her hands to her chest. Jonathan clenched his fists, suppressing his anger.
“You told your six-year-old daughter she was ugly?” I asked Paula, my voice trembling with indignation.
“I didn’t say that,” Paula cried desperately. “That girl is confused.”
“What about the eyelashes, doesn’t she like them either?” I persisted.
Paula fell silent for the first time that afternoon. Her silence spoke louder than any confession.
Michael finally looked at his daughter. Really looked at her. And for the first time, I saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes.
“Monica, did your mom really tell you that?”
Monika nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“She also told me that if I told anyone, she would cut my hair even shorter.”
That was the final straw. I rose like a spring and found myself face to face with Paula.
« Not only did you traumatize my granddaughter, » I said, my voice sharp as a knife, « but you also threatened her to silence her. What kind of monster threatens a six-year-old girl? »
“I’m not a monster” – Paula was completely losing control of herself.
“You all take everything out of context.”
“What context justifies calling a child ugly?” asked Brenda, who had remained silent until then.
“What context justifies threatening her?”
“She was too dramatic,” Paula shouted.
“I just tried to calm her down by calling her ugly.”
Jonathan joined the confrontation again.
« Ma’am, this isn’t soothing a child. It’s psychological abuse. »
“Don’t get involved in what doesn’t concern you.”
Paula was now completely out of control.
« This is my family. »
“Your family?” I asked contemptuously. “Is this how you treat your family? By humiliating them, threatening them, destroying their self-esteem?”
Michael finally reacted, but not in the way I expected.
“Enough, everyone!” he shouted. “This is my house and my party. If you don’t like how we’re raising our daughter, you can leave.”
The words stuck in my throat. My own son kicked me out of the house for defending his daughter.
“How are we raising our daughter?” I repeated slowly. “Michael, do you think shaving a six-year-old girl’s head and calling her ugly is being a parent?”
“It’s a matter of discipline,” Michael replied, but his voice sounded less confident than before.
“Paula is trying to teach her good habits.”
“What good habits?” I blurted out. “The habit of fear. The habit of thinking she’s ugly. The habit of staying silent when she’s hurt.”
Monika began to cry louder, desperately clinging to my coral dress. The sound of her sobs filled the room.
Paula took advantage of the moment to attack again.
« See, now you’ve made her cry even more. It’s your fault for coming and causing trouble. »
But I made a decision. I looked my son straight in the eye and told him with as much coolness as I could muster: « Michael, if you think defending my daughter is problematic, then you clearly don’t know me at all. »
I took Monika in my arms. She clung to me as if I were her lifeboat in the middle of a storm.
“We’re leaving immediately,” I announced, “and we won’t be back until this situation changes completely.”
“You can’t take her!” Paula shouted.
“She is my daughter.”
“No,” I replied in a steely voice. “She’s my granddaughter, and I won’t let you hurt her anymore.”
I walked toward the door with Monika in my arms. Behind me, I heard Michael shout, « Mom, stop being so dramatic. You’re overreacting. »
« Drama? » The word followed me to the door. My granddaughter was shocked, humiliated, and frightened. But I was the dramatic one, because I was protecting her.
I left that house with my granddaughter in my arms, vowing to myself that I would never let anyone hurt her again, no matter what the price would be.
The ride home was the quietest of my life. Monica fell asleep in the backseat, emotionally exhausted by everything she’d been through. Every time I looked at her in the rearview mirror, my heart broke a little more. Her small, shaved head looked so vulnerable, so helpless.
When we got home, I carefully picked her up and carried her straight to my bedroom. I tucked her into bed, the same one she’d slept in so many nights when she was younger. I removed her pink hat and gently stroked her head. Her skin was irritated by the razor Paula had used without a second thought.
“Grandma,” she murmured without opening her eyes. “Can I stay with you forever?”
Those words devastated me. A six-year-old girl shouldn’t choose to live with her grandmother over her own parents. That only happened when there was no safety at home.
“Of course, honey,” I whispered, even though I knew it was legally impossible. “You will always be protected here.”
Monika fell into a deep sleep. I watched her, remembering all the signals I’d ignored over the past two years. The changes in her behavior. The fear in her eyes when Paula scolded her. How she’d become so quiet and obedient. How could I have missed this before? How could I have allowed my granddaughter to suffer in silence for so long?
My phone started ringing. It was Michael. I let it ring until he hung up. He called back immediately, then again, and again. Finally, I answered.
“What do you want, Michael?”
“Mom, you have to bring Monika back immediately.” His voice sounded authoritative, as if I were an employee who had disobeyed an order.
“No,” I replied simply.
“What do you mean no?” he asked.
“She is my daughter.”
“Mom, you can’t just take her away.”
“Your daughter?” I laughed bitterly. “Since when do you act like she’s your daughter? You’ve been letting your wife mistreat her for two years.”
« Paula doesn’t bully her. She’s just strict. »
Michael listened very carefully. My voice became dangerously calm. “Your wife shaved your daughter’s head, called her ugly, threatened her, and has been subjecting her to psychological trauma for months. Is that harsh?”
“As usual, you exaggerate everything.”
As always.
Those two words made me feel sick.
“As always.” Have I ever overreacted when it came to my granddaughter’s well-being?
Michael was silent for a moment.
« Mom, just bring her. We’ll talk tomorrow. »
“No, Monica will stay with me until you solve this problem.”
“You have no right,” Michael shouted. “Paula is her mother.”
“Where were you when your wife shaved your daughter’s head?” I asked. “Where were you when she cried and begged for help?”
Another awkward silence.
« I didn’t know it would be so drastic. »
“You didn’t know?” I raised my voice. “Your wife takes an electric razor to cut a six-year-old girl’s hair, and you didn’t know it would be drastic?”
“She told me she was just going to cut her hair.”
« Michael, did you hear your daughter cry? Silence. Did you hear her cry? Yes or no? »
“Yes,” he finally admitted in a quiet voice.
« What did you do? »
« I thought it was normal. Babies always cry when they get their hair cut. »
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