"So, what's everyone doing for the Fourth?" Luke clips the dust pan back onto the plastic broom handle and sits it up against the bar counter. He weasels his hand into my bag of mini Oreo cookies and helps himself to a couple as he sits down on the bar stool across from where I'm standing and cleaning up the counter. "Anyone going down to that thing they're supposed to be having on the boardwalk?" A chunk of chewed up Oreo flies out of his mouth and lands on the counter in a spot that I just wiped. I turn my nose up at it, spray it with the bleach cleaner and wipe it again. Luke just finished sweeping up the floor, I'm wiping off the counters, Kaylee is wiping down the beer fridge, Lucille is counting out register drawers and Macy is wiping off the hostess podium. All of us worked until closing time today, which means we're in charge of all nightly cleanups. Needless to say my day at work was pretty awesome, considering that I worked with all my favorite people. I scrub a water ring off the counter and half-ass listen to Luke as he continues talking. To be honest, I forgot the Fourth of July is next week. I still haven't been keeping track of the date. Old habits die hard, I guess. "I think me and Mike are gonna go but if it's lame, we're just gonna go down to his parents' house for a cookout. What are you guys gonna do?"

"Probably gonna check out the festival on the boardwalk with Brian." Kaylee slams the beer fridge door shut and walks over to where we're all congregated at the bar counter. "I don't think it's gonna be lame. Or at least I hope it's not going to be lame." She shrugs her shoulders and helps herself to some of my Oreos as well. "It'll beat the heck outta sitting in the house bored, that's for sure."

Macy walks over to us as well, carrying a few loose menus she found at the hostess podium. "Yeah, Ryan said he wants to see what the boardwalk thing is all about too, so I think that's where we're headed. To be honest, all I want is somewhere nice to watch fireworks. I don't care about anything else." Just like everyone else did, Macy sticks her hand in my bag of Oreos and pops a handful in her mouth.

"Me and my husband were thinking about checking that out too, actually. It sounds like it's gonna be really nice and I think it's neat how the fireman's club is sponsoring it. It's about time we have something nice like that in Millerton." Lucille locks up the moneybox and stands beside the rest of us as well. She seems to be the one that's most excited about the Independence Day festival and I think that's because aside from me, she's the only one of us that actually lives in Millerton. Luke lives in a town about ten minutes away from the restaurant called Portage, Macy lives up in Pensacola and Kaylee lives down in Murraysville. Only Lucille and I actually live here in Millerton. "How about you, Jo? Any plans for the Fourth?"

I shake my head and fold up the rag I used to clean the counter. "Nope...no special plans for me." Luke reaches across the counter and heads for my Oreos again. "What the hell? This is not the community bag of Oreos and I'm not feeding the needy. Get your own." I snatch the bag up and take my own handful. "Here...greedy." I throw the rest of whatever's in the bag at him. "Anyway..." I shove a couple Oreos in my own mouth. "I was thinking about going to that thing on the boardwalk too...but I don't think I'm gonna go anymore. I don't have anyone to go with and I don't want to go alone, so I'll probably just sit out on my porch and watch the fireworks from there." I lick cookie crumbs off my lips. "To be honest, I don't really see the hype about the Fourth of July as a holiday." I shrug.

"You don't have anyone to go with?" Kaylee stands next to me and leans against the counter so that I'm forced to look her in her eye. I stick another cookie in my mouth and shake my head. "Wait, you mean to tell me you're not going to be with your man candy? Everyone in Millerton is going to that thing and you mean to tell me that you can't go with your babe? I call bullshit on that."

"He's not my man candy, my babe or anything like that." I roll my eyes, shake my head and turn away from her. "We're just friends and NO...I'm not going anywhere with him."

"Yeah Mace and Luke, that Alex character came in here yesterday and requested for Jo to serve him." Lucille fills Macy and Luke in since the two of them weren't working yesterday. Macy's jaw drops and Luke's eyes widen. "Yep. Jo was off the clock so she didn't serve him, but she sat down and had a coffee with him and they talked for a while." Luke looks at me and wiggles his eyebrows up and down fast, like he's implying something. "Our Jo has a boyfriend, guys...and he's a fine man."

"He's NOT my boyfriend!" I slam the rag I used to wipe the counter and the bleach cleaner down on the counter in front of me. "He's not...my boyfriend, guys. He's just my friend."

"Mhm, we're sure." Kaylee playfully nudges me. "He came in here and said he wanted him some Jo. He wants you, girl...and when a man that sexy wants you, you just gotta let him take you...all the way back to his bedroom." Everyone around me busts out in hardcore laughter and I just blush, out of embarrassment. It's not like that between me and Alex. We're just friends and I'm his babysitter on occasion. We're not romantically attracted to each other. "Jo, you're single aren't you?" I bury my face in my hands so they can't see the redness of my cheeks and just nod. "Then why don't you screw him? If you don't, I will. He came in here, requested you and talked to you for at least half an hour. He wants you."

"...We're just friends. He's my neighbor and I'm close with his daughter. I'm gonna babysit his daughter whenever he needs me to, that's all. We're not romantically attracted to each other. I swear, we're just friends. He requested me because we're friends, he talked to me because we're friends, he drove me home because we're friends and he helped me carry paint into my house because we're friends. We're FRIENDS, guys. Do you know what a friend is?"

"HE DROVE YOU HOME?! DEAR GOD, JO HE WANTS YOU!" Luke stands up and clamps his hand over his mouth like he can't believe it. "Why don't you see it?!"

I take my face out of my hands and stomp my foot. "Because that's not the case! It was raining and we LITERALLY live right down the street from one another. He just gave me a ride home and helped me carry my things. We're just friends. It's his daughter that we bond over, guys. She likes me and I offered to babysit her every now and again. Please believe that we're just friends. We're just friends, guys. I'm not interested in Alex like that. I'm not sexually attracted to him and he's not sexually attracted to me." I bite my lip and crinkle my nose. "I can't even think of Alex like that. He's my friend. It's weird to think of him like that. I'm not sexually attracted to him—or anyone, for that matter. I don't do sex."

"You're a virgin?" Macy raises her eyebrow and pries a little. I nod my head and keep a very straight face. "...No you're not. You can't be. You're entirely too pretty to be a virgin. Someone smashed that." I shake my head. "You're seriously a virgin, Jo?!" I nod. "Oh my god, we so have to get you laid!"

"...I'm not a virgin, guys." I smirk and shake my head. Macy glares at me with the "I knew it" look. "But I'm really not attracted to Alex, romantically or sexually." I lean against the counter and rest my chin the palms of my hands. "...I'm not a virgin, but I haven't had sex in so long, I think my virginity came back." Everyone starts laughing at me and I don't even know why because I'm being dead serious. I haven't had sex in such a long time. I haven't had sex since...crap...I don't even know. I think the last time I had sex was when Mark got elected chairman of the city, which was like...I don't know...ten months ago? It's been a while. "I'm serious guys...I like...lost my virginity...but now it's been so long since I've had sex...and my virginity found me. I didn't find it, it found me. As far as I'm concerned, I'm a virgin."

"You're a mess, Jo." Lucille wraps her arms around my shoulders and squeezes me. "You're such a mess. Here I thought you were all sweet and innocent and quiet..." She presses her lips to the side of my head. "Boy, was I wrong. You're a mess."

"I love you Jo." Macy rolls her eyes at me. "...And just leave it to us. We'll get you laid...and it'll be by that one sexy man. Trust me." She combs her fingers through my hair and pats my cheek. "You know what, Jo...you're really pretty." She tilts her head and looks at me, as if she's just now realizing that I'm pretty. For some reason, since she said that, I'm finding it hard to look her in her eye. People call me pretty all the time, it's really not that big of a deal. And when I look at myself in the mirror, sometimes I think I'm pretty too. But I don't want to seem cocky or conceited when someone calls me pretty so usually, I either say "thank you" or just put my head down. I've seen prettier people than me, to be honest. "I'm serious. You're like...freakishly pretty. Why the hell are you single?" She's messing with my hair like she's trying to get it to lie down right. "If I were a guy, I'd date you."

I open my mouth to say something and close it just as quickly as I opened it once I think twice about what I was going to say. I don't want them to judge me and I really don't want them to ask questions...but they're my friends, right? I mean...they're really my friends. And I know about them... I know that Lucille is married and she has two kids, a boy and a girl, that live in Orlando. Kaylee has a boyfriend named Brian and she's currently in college to become a nurse. She's working here for the summer. Macy has a boyfriend named Ryan and the two of them are supposed to get married sometime this fall. Luke has a boyfriend named Mike and as soon as it's legal in Florida, the two of them want to get married and adopt a couple kids from China. They don't know about me though. So should I tell them? I mean, want good is a one-sided friendship? "I was married once, actually." I know I swore that I wanted to keep my life in Chamberlain completely separate from my life here in Millerton but they're my friends and they deserve to know. "Back when I lived in Massachusetts...I was married."

"Are you serious?" Luke looks at me with the first serious look I've ever seen him give. "You were really married?"

"Mhm." I tuck my hair behind my ears and nod. "For five years. I got married when I was 23. I just turned 29 last month."

"But you're not married anymore?" Kaylee tilts her head. I shake mine. "What happened? Did he like...get abusive? Is that why you moved here? Or did you just like...mutually part ways?"

"...He died seven months ago." I feel my throat start to close up as soon as the worlds roll off my tongue. I don't think I've ever said that aloud. Saying it aloud is really...surreal. I inhale a sharp breath and find a speck on the counter to concentrate on so I don't cry. I can't believe I said that. More so than that, I can't believe I've never said that. Somehow, saying it aloud makes it all the more real. "It was a car accident..." I whisper that last bit but I know it was loud enough for them to hear me. I take my eyes off the speck on the counter and look at my friends again. They're all giving me that look I so desperately tried to get away from. They pity me. They're looking at me like I'm a sad little hopeless case. Except for Lucille. She's looking at me like she just cracked some kind of mystery code. And that's when it dawns on me... I look away from her and brush my teeth along my tongue. I told her that I was in a car accident. She knows that I was in an accident...and she probably put two and two together. "I'll see you guys later." Without any other words, I open the gate and hurry out from behind the counter. I hear someone call after me but I don't look back to see who exactly it was and I couldn't make out the voice since my hearing is just so...fuzzy all of a sudden.

I push open the door and jog down the front steps. It's raining but it's not hard enough for me to need a ride home. It's just sprinkling raining out here, just barely even a mist. As I walk hastily up the sidewalk, I untie my jacket from around my waist and shrug it on. I pop the hood over my head, sling my hands down into the pockets and keep my head down while I'm on my way home. I talk too much sometimes. I should've just left it at "he died seven months ago". I didn't have to go into detail and admit that it was a car accident that killed him. I didn't have to tell them that. I didn't have to lead Lucille to figure out the truth about me. I guess maybe I said the car accident part is because a part of me needed to hear myself say it. I don't think I've ever once admitted it to myself. I read the death certificate over and over again for a week. Saw the death date, the cause of death...everything. When it said that he died on November 22nd of 2014, it felt real to me. When it said that the cause of his death was blunt force trauma to his head and neck, it felt real then too. It felt real when I saw him in the casket with a bandage over his head, felt real when they lowered his casket in the ground, felt real when I went home and slept in an empty bed. But somehow and for some reason, saying it makes it seem more real, if that's possible. I wish I had shut up after I told everybody that he died. If I had, I wouldn't be stuck walking, thinking about the car crash that caused my husband's death.

I walk past the parking lot of the convenience store and close my eyes since it's just a straight path. I'm trying so hard to force the thoughts of him out of my damn head but I just can't. I'm feeling like I felt that day in the restaurant owner's office. Like I'm about to have an attack of my overactive imagination and imagine something so real, yet so untrue. But I know it's not that. I'm about to have an attack of a memory and I really don't want to. I wish it would just go away. I wish I didn't have to think about this...not right now.

"Mark? Mark? Mark! Mark, answer me!" I screamed as loud as I could but there was still this part of me that couldn't help but think that I wasn't screaming loud enough. He wasn't answering so he couldn't hear me, right? That's the only reason he wouldn't answer me. "Mark? Baby, can you answer me?" I tried moving my arm to see if I could nudge him or anything...but my arm wouldn't move. I remember thinking...I think my arm is broken. I turned my head to my right...He's still in the passenger's side but his eyes are closed and his head...dear god, why is his head like that? Why is his head like that?

His head was...not like a head at all. It was so caved in and half of it was gone...half of his HEAD was gone. I put my hand over my chest and push on it. I don't think I can breathe. I think...I think I'm dying? I can't breathe. My heart is beating entirely too fast. I stop walking right in the middle of the sidewalk and hunch over. I put my hands on my knees and try to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. I can't breathe. My chest hurts. It feels like I have a 50 pound weight sitting on my chest and it's crushing my windpipe. It's cutting off my air supply. I can't breathe. I gasp, taking in a multiple breaths at one time. I can't breathe though...something's wrong with me. Why can't I breathe? I close my eyes and really try to concentrate on breathing. What if I really am a murderer after all? Because I'm not stupid and that's the only other option, right? I'm not stupid and I know that drinking and driving is wrong. So maybe I am a murderer...because I'm not stupid. I can't breathe...but murderers don't deserve to breathe.

I take a couple deep breaths again and finally, I feel my chest loosening up a bit. I don't know why I'm breathing when I'm a crummy murderer that doesn't deserve to breathe, but I'm breathing again nonetheless. I straighten myself up tilt my head back at the sky and gaze at the moon for a moment. Thank god it's dark outside so nobody saw me break down, thank god it's not pouring down rain and thank god I don't work tomorrow...because I have no idea how I would face my friends if I worked immediately after this day.

X X X

I don't know if I've ever heard of anyone getting high off paint fumes, but if it's possible, I should be well above sea-level. I've been awake since 8:30 this morning, painting my kitchen and huffing paint and I'm either lightheaded from the fumes or just hungry since I haven't had breakfast or lunch yet. I don't know why I got up so early this morning when I usually sleep well past noon on my off days but something internal just wouldn't let me sleep past 8:30. I had a terrible night's sleep last night to begin with. I was stuck thinking about how I broke down on my way home from work last night. I'm fine now...I guess the guilt and shame wore off but during the night, I tossed and turned just thinking about it. I fell asleep for a little while around 6:00 but when I woke up at 8:30, I just couldn't go back to sleep. So I went to my kitchen, cracked open the can of paint and decided to try and finish my kitchen this morning. I've been painting for four hours and I'm still not done yet. I started painting two days ago, when Alex got the paint for me but I got the wall next to my fridge done and I quit after that. I worked yesterday so I didn't have time to paint but I'm off today and I think I might spend the entire day painting. I'm off tomorrow too because I've worked every day for the last week and since I'm still part-time, they can't let me work over 40 hours if it's not approved overtime. I'd rather just be off than get the overtime approved by Tony. I'm off today and I'll probably finish my kitchen at least and by the end of tomorrow, I'd like to have my bathroom done as well.

I dip the brush into the paint tray and crawl over next to my stove so I can paint the baseboard. The cable guy is supposed to be coming today, between the hours of 10 and 2. It's quarter past noon so he could be here any minute. I think I picked a nice blue for my kitchen. It's like a baby blue kind of color but it's more pastel than a baby blue. It's really nice and I was right about needing some color in here. My house is looking better already and my kitchen is only halfway done. When I was lying awake in my bed last night, I just kept thinking about how much of a coward I am. I ran...and that's all I really know how to do. I ran from Chamberlain when things got hard and I'm trying to rebuild my life here in Millerton. I keep thinking that I'm happy here and in a sense, there are some parts of me that are indeed, happy here. But I don't know who I'm trying to fool. Truth is, I'm still a little depressed. The only thing I've ever been good at though, is bottling my feelings and pushing them aside. I don't really know how to deal with feelings, now that I think about it.

Part of me is happy that I can live in a place where people don't hate me. I'm glad that I can walk down the street without being harassed, stared at and picked on. I'm glad that I don't have to worry about the house I own being foreclosed around me and I'm trying to put Mark behind. But the bigger half of me knows that I'm only trying to run from my problems and eventually, they're gonna catch up. Moving isn't going to change the fact that I killed my husband in a car crash because I was too damn stupid to just not drive while I was drunk. Moving isn't going to fix the fact that my legs are screwed up. Moving isn't going to change the fact that I loved my husband with everything in my body and he's gone. And moving surely isn't going to change the fact that I could've had a piece of him forever with me. I could've had a piece of my husband but I don't and that's my fault and I'm still not ready to talk about that. See, that's just what I do. I push my feelings aside when I don't feel like/don't know how to deal with them. I think the scariest part of that is the fact that I know...I know for a fact...that when I'm least expecting it and when I certainly don't want them to...my feelings are gonna just hit me like a ton of bricks and I'm not gonna know what to do with myself. I'm just going to be a big mess of emotions but that's just a risk I'm going to have to take because pushing my emotions aside for a later time is just something I do.

I lick my lips and get eye-level with the part of the baseboard I'm painting. I want the paint job to look neat, so I'm concentrating on every single crack and crevice. I'm just about to finish painting the corner where the baseboard folds in when suddenly, it sounds like someone is smacking—not knocking—smacking on my door frantically and I jump back, practically out of my skin and gasp. That scared the shit out of me. I take a few deep breaths to relax myself and put the paint brush in the paint tray. I guess it's the cable man. But why would he be smacking on the door instead of knocking? Or ringing my doorbell? I pick myself up off the ground and saunter over to my door.

I open it up.

Alex's Point of View.

"You want peanut butter and jelly or peanut butter and banana?" I grab the jar of crunchy peanut butter out of the cupboard and the loaf of bread. It's noon so I'm about to feed her something for lunch. After she eats lunch, she should be ready to take a nap. I worked midnight last night so I'm looking forward to her taking a nap because I need a damn nap myself. I didn't get home until 7:30 this morning and I didn't go to sleep at all. I got in the shower when I came home from work and came down to the kitchen to heat myself up one of the pork chops I fried for dinner last night. After I showered and ate, I planned on going to sleep but Lyla had other plans. My dad watched her here instead of at his house and she slept on the couch with him last night so I was going to bring her upstairs in the bed with me. As soon as I touched her, she woke up and thought it was party time. I haven't been to sleep since I got home and I'm exhausted. "Lyla Isabella, I'm talking to you." I lean back and look into the living room. She's sitting on the couch wearing a pink t-shirt and a pair of purple pajama pants. She turns her head and looks at me. "I said peanut butter and jelly or peanut butter and banana...answer me."

"Um...nana." She turns her attention back to the TV and ignores me. She's been really ornery today too, but I suppose her behavior is somewhat normal for a three year old that'll be four in a couple of weeks. I caught her trying to stick a lollipop stick into the electric socket and when I told her no, she just looked at me. I turned my back and she did it again so I took the stick off of her and smacked her hands. She cried, of course and I felt really bad but she was going to electrocute herself. I sat her on the couch and made her watch TV. And then, as if she didn't learn her lesson the first time, she started jumping on the couch. I told her to sit down and she ignored me. I told her to sit down again, she still ignored me so I grabbed her, swatted her on the butt and made her sit in timeout. She's never this ornery so I don't know what the hell is wrong with her but when I let her off timeout, I told her if she didn't sit down and behave that I was going to crack her butt again and she sat down and watched TV. She's taking a nap after she eats, regardless if she wants to or not.

"Come in here and eat, Lyla." I cut her peanut butter and banana sandwich into fours and put the plate on the kitchen table. She comes running into the kitchen. "Don't run." I pick her up and sit her in the chair. I work from 3-11 tomorrow, which means she's gonna be spending the day at the shop with my dad. When I work 7-3 or 11-7, she doesn't have to go to the shop because from 7-3, my dad's morning is just getting started and at 11-7, his day is over. The only time she has to stay at the shop is when I work 3-11 because from 3:00 to 11:00, those are his work hours. He's at the shop from 3:30-8 every day. She picks up a quadrant of her sandwich and takes a bite. "Dada..." She turns around in her chair and faces me. "Hey dada... Pappy snore...him go...him go..." She starts snorting. "Like that, dada! Him sound like a piggy!"

"Really?" I walk over to where she's sitting. She's really on my nerves today with how belligerent and naughty she's being but no matter what, I always love this little girl. I bend down slightly and kiss the top of her head. "Pappy always snores." I rub her hair as she eats her sandwich. "We're gonna take a nap when you're done eating. Just me and you, we're gonna take a nap. You want to go night-night on the couch or upstairs in the big bed?"

"Big bed." She finishes off one piece of sandwich and starts on another. "I go wiff Pappy tomorrow too dada?"

"Yeah, you gotta go down to the shop with Pappy tomorrow." I take my hands off her head and go over to the cupboard so I can get her something to drink. I take out her pink sippy cup and put it on the counter. I've been thinking about Jo a lot lately. Not about her in a weird kind of way, but about her in the way that I think I might really like for her to watch Lyla sometime. She's probably the only person outside of family that I've ever seen Lyla open up to, so that's a plus. And I'd rather have Lyla in a house than in a car shop. I have her number...we exchanged numbers after she offered to babysit for me. I just haven't mustered up the courage or whatever to call her. I just don't want to inconvenience her. She has her own job and her own life to live and I don't want to call her, ask her to babysit for me and have her feel obligated. I would be fine with her watching Lyla, I trust that Ly would be in good hands with her. I just don't feel right asking such a big favor of her. I knew she would be good with Lyla the second I saw the way she held her in my dad's shop. She held Lyla like she has kids of her own and when we got in the car to go home, she sat in the back with Lyla and let her sleep on her lap. She's really good with Lyla and plus, Lyla likes her. If there's anyone on this block that I'd trust with my kid, it'd be her. I bring her cup back over to her so she can have something to drink and as soon as I put her cup down, there's a knock at my door. "Eat up, Ly...I'm gonna grab the door."

I walk to my front door, trying to think of who this could be. It could be my one neighbor bringing me a bag of cucumbers and tomatoes from her garden like she always does. This is around the time she usually brings them to me. I unlock the door and pull it open...and I immediately wish I hadn't. My mom is standing on my porch. My freaking mom. She's wearing a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting sweater and she's carrying a shopping bag. I don't open the door any further though. She's not welcomed in my house. "Good afternoon, Alex." She nudges her glasses up on her nose with her index finger. "Are you going to invite me in or do you want me to sit out here in this heat and melt to death?" She snaps at me. I'd rather see her melt to be totally honest. But because she's my mother...and ONLY because she's my mother, I step aside and let her in. I don't say anything to her though. She rubs her hands together as I shut the door and smiles. "Where's my little Lyla bug?" She starts walking toward my kitchen but I stand in front of her to stop her.

"What are you doing here, mom?" I hold my arm out and block her entrance to the kitchen. I said she can't see Lyla and that's what I meant. She will NEVER see my daughter again, as long as I have anything to do with it. She might see us out at a grocery store...or she might see her while she's over my dad's. But she cannot and WILL not walk into my house and see her. I refuse. "What do you want?"

"Oh, Alex...step aside and let me see my grandbaby. You're not still angry with me, are you?" She folds her arms across her chest and taps her foot. "Alexander, you have to understand that as a grandmother, I have a duty to my grandbaby to protect her at all costs. If I see something that I don't think is right, I'm going to step in and say something. You cannot be mad at me for that."

"Bullshit, mom. I'm her father, you don't have to protect her from ME. I'm her father...and I don't appreciate you treating me like I'm some kind of criminal. Mom, you're not welcomed in my house. You're not welcomed here, you're not welcomed to see my daughter, you're not welcomed around me ever. You burned that bridge completely down, mom." I shake my head at her. "You have any idea how much that hurts? How much sleep I lost just...thinking about the fact that you would actually believe that I would hit my daughter? Hurt my daughter? Touch my daughter? Molest my daughter? Mom, I can't even...stomach the thought of ANYONE hurting her, let alone myself. And you planted that doubt...you...actually think that I would. You actually think that you NEED to protect her from me. I'm her father, ma. If nobody else is gonna be good to her, I'm going to. So I'm sorry, but you have to go...get out." I shake my head again. "You're no mother of mine. You're dead to me."

"Alexander Michael Karev. You yourself know that a FALL could not have done that to that baby's eye. You're a pediatrician and you really think for one second that a fall could cause that baby's eye to look like a grown man punched her?" She's angry. I grew up with my mom for 30 years, I know when she's mad...and she is LIVID. "And the fact that you feel the need to wipe her constantly while changing her...Alex there's something about that that didn't set right with me. I could be wrong...I could be wrong about all of this. But as her grandmother, I'm not going to sit around and watch her be hurt when her dad wasn't equipped to take care of her in the first place! You never were ready to handle her! You should've given her to me in the first place, just like I asked you to when Jenna died! If you can't handle her, you need to give her to someone that can! Now as YOUR MOTHER, I'm telling you to move and let me see my granddaughter."

"And as her father, I'm telling you to get the HELL out of my house." I stand firm. I'm not letting her see Lyla. "Don't you think she's been through enough?! She's three years old and she lost her mother! Now you're trying to take her away from me too?! Come on, mom...let it GO. Just leave. Trust and believe that whatever I do with my daughter, she's WELL taken care of and she is LOVED. I'm not hurting her and she's fine with me. I can handle her, ma. I'm handling her. GET out of my house." I point towards the door. "...You know what, mom? You try to make it seem like all you're out for is the best interest of Lyla but if you really cared about what's best for her, you'd know that leaving her here is what's best for her. And if you knew me at all...you'd know that you didn't raise a child molester, a child abuser..." I can't even look at her. "It's like you didn't raise me at all." I shake my head again because truly, that's all I can do is shake my head at her. I have no words for her. "I shouldn't have to stand here and convince you that I didn't abuse my child."

"Alex, move...now. I'm not kidding. I have something here in this bag that I bought specifically for her and I want to give it to her." If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was going to hit me. I'd say that she's gonna raise her hand and slap me in my face. It's fine if she does...wouldn't be the first time my mom hit me. And if she does hit me, it's not gonna change the fact that she still can't see my daughter. I still stand with my arm blocking the entrance. She lifts her hand and pushes my arm down. "MOVE."

"NO. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, HELEN." I swat her hand away. "YOU CAN SIT HERE AND YELL AT ME UNTIL YOU'RE BLUE IN THE FACE BUT I'M STILL NOT GONNA LET YOU S-" Just like I thought she would, she raises her hand and slaps me pretty hard, dead across my face. As soon as she slaps me and my head goes barreling to the side, I hear Lyla scream, "DADDY!" I didn't even realize she was watching. I really want to hit my mom back. She hit me in front of my kid...as if accusing me of hurting her isn't enough, she hit me in front of her too? I grit my teeth and just keep telling myself that she's my mother...she's my mother...she gave birth to me. My cheek stings like hell. I see Lyla from the corner of my eye. Her hands are over her eyes and she's cowering away from the situation. "...You need to go, mom. You need to go right now. You need to get out of my house...before I call the police." I mumble that last part. There's only but so much disrespect I can take from her. I'm trying to be respectful because as a man, I was always taught that I need to respect my mother. But it's getting so hard. "Go, mom...now."

She kneels down on the ground. "Come here, Lyla...come here sweetheart."

"MOM, GET OUT!"

She completely ignores me. "Come here, sweetheart...come see grammy..."

"Lyla, if you move...I swear to god, you're not allowed to play with your Barbies for a week." I say to her through clenched teeth. I would never follow through with that punishment, by the way. I would never penalize her for my mom being a bitch, I just need an incentive to keep her behind me and not in my mom's arms. She's three years old...she's a baby. If she sees my mom calling her, she's gonna go to her. My mom is still coaxing her over to her. Lyla takes a step toward my mom. "TWO weeks, Lyla...no Barbies." She stops and looks at me. "Stay right there." I say to her.

"Come see grammy, honey..." My mom is still trying to get her to come to her.

Beside me, Lyla moves...but she doesn't go to my mom. Instead, she runs away from the entire situation as fast as her little legs will take her. She runs back toward the kitchen and heads in the direction of the back door. She's probably going to the laundry room...she hides there sometimes when things become too much for her. She hid in the laundry room at the after service of Jenna's funeral before she made her way to Jenna's closet. That's my girl, though. As long as she doesn't go to my mom, I don't care where she goes. "Mom, you really need to get out of my house. You're not helping your case here...I was going to consider letting you see her again but...you're really not helping here."

I want to go comfort my daughter.

Jo's Point of View.

I open up my door to greet the cable guy when I see that it's not the cable guy at all. It's a barefoot three year old, dressed in a pink shirt and purple pants with tears streaking all down her cheeks. That explains the smacking instead of knocking, I guess.