Content warning: drug addiction, domestic abuse

The end looked like this: The hotel was a converted monastery with a bathtub sitting in the middle. Our five-year-old son, Valentino, looked ethereal with the afternoon sun dancing across his red hair as he bathed. The warm summer air drifted smells of empanada shops and the Latin chants of afternoon service through the open windows. Valentino had set Old Lion, his trusted lovie, on a chair facing the bathtub.

“This is how you wash your body like a big boy, Old Lion.” His slippery hands dropped the soap and belly laughs erupted while I sat on the floor gazing at my little boy in the way mothers do.

“Valentino, it’s time to get dressed for dinner,” I said, and Valentino shot up out of the tub, excited for his favorite, octopus tapas. I chuckled at his enthusiasm and the toddler belly still holding strong despite his age. Eating exotic cuisine was a favorite pastime during our family travels. Valentino was a brave eater for a little squirt, probably because his father cut small bites and shared whatever he was eating. We were ready in a record five minutes for dinner.

A voice from the bed. “Give me a minute.” Rob needed to get high before leaving. His mood had been teetering towards unkind, the way it did when the drug supply dwindled.

“That’s fine, we will meet you in the lobby.” I was adept at hiding my husband’s drug problem.

“No, I’ll just be a second.” Rob’s voice was insistent.

“Rob. No.” I grabbed Valentino’s hand, his fingers still pruned from the bath. “Come on sweetheart, let’s explore the lobby while Daddy gets ready.”

Within a second my husband tossed me into a wall. My shoulder and head smacked with a loud thud and I collapsed on the ground seeing black spots.

“Mommy! Are you okay?” Valentino shrieked. His small hand glided over my shoulder, inspecting it for any visible damage. Then rubbed my head where he thought it hit the wall, the way mothers do.

Gabrielle Nigmond is a graduate of the University of Virginia and a creative writing MFA student at Virginia Commonwealth University. When not writing, Gabrielle can be found in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains with her two boys.