Five Steps

“Let go.”

Evelyn pulled harder.

The keys cut into my fingers.

“You are not locking me out of my son’s life.”

“This is a house key!”

“It’s the same thing with you.”

We were at the top of the stairs.

I remember that detail because afterward everyone asked me exactly where I had been standing.

My left foot was near the first step.

Evelyn was between me and the hallway.

Her fist was closed around the metal ring.

“Give it back.”

“You need to learn some respect.”

“It’s mine.”

I pulled.

She jerked the keys toward herself.

The ring slipped from my fingers.

I reached instinctively.

My hand caught her sleeve.

Her face changed.

Not fear.

Rage.

“Don’t touch me.”

“You took my keys!”

Then both her hands hit me.

Hard.

One against my shoulder.

One against my upper arm.

I went backward.

My heel missed the floor.

There was a horrible instant when I understood exactly what was happening but couldn’t stop it.

I struck one step with my hip.

Then another with my elbow.

My legs folded under me, and I slid sideways until I hit the small landing five steps below.

The sound that came out of me didn’t feel human.

For several seconds I couldn’t breathe.

Evelyn stood above me.

She still had my keys.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

I looked up.

Her face had gone white.

“You pushed me.”

“No.”

“You pushed me down the stairs.”

“I barely touched you.”

My whole body started shaking.

She descended one step.

I recoiled.

“Stay away from me.”

“Natalie—”

“Stay away!”

She stopped.

I could move my legs.

My elbow burned. My hip throbbed. Nothing felt broken.

But I was terrified.

Not because I had fallen far.

Because of how easily she had done it.

And because she was already changing what had happened.

“You grabbed me,” Evelyn said.

“You stole my keys.”

“You attacked me.”

I stared at her.

“You shoved me.”

“I was defending myself.”

Those words frightened me more than the fall.

Because she wasn’t panicking anymore.

She was building a story.

I reached for my phone.

Evelyn saw it.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling Daniel.”

“I’ll call him.”

“No.”

She was already taking out her phone.

I struggled to my feet, one hand gripping the banister.

“Give me my keys.”

She looked down at them.

For one second I thought she might.

Then she put them in her purse.

“You’re not thinking clearly.”

My stomach turned.

“Get out of my house.”

“Natalie—”

“GET OUT.”

She left.

I locked the door behind her with the spare key the locksmith had given me.

Then I sat on the floor.

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

I called Daniel three times.

He didn’t answer.

On the fourth call, he did.

“Nat?”

Before I could speak, he said:

“Why did you attack my mother?”

And that was when I realized Evelyn had called him first.