Chapter 17 - Family Gossip
A cousin posted a wedding clip in a private group chat.
Not the slap.
The moment the ring fell.
Caption:
Worst wedding ever.
I called him.
“Delete it.”
“It’s private.”
“Percival is visible.”
“Oh.”
He deleted.
Too late for some relatives.
Rumors moved.
Some said Percival caught a thief.
Some said Estelle had been set up.
Some said Gwendolyn “ignored red flags.”
I shut down family commentary when it reached my son.
One aunt told him:
“You saved Aunt Gwen.”
I said:
“No.”
She blinked.
“I mean—”
“I know what you mean.”
Then to Percival:
“You told what you saw. Aunt Gwen made her own decisions.”
Good.
No hero burden.
Then a boy at school heard something from parents and asked:
“Did your grandma slap you because you stole?”
Percival punched him in the shoulder.
Not hard enough for injury.
Still wrong.
School called.
I picked him up.
He was furious.
“He said I stole.”
“I know.”
“He lied.”
“Maybe he repeated something.”
“He said it.”
“Yes.”
“Then punch.”
“No.”
He glared.
“Grandma slapped. You slapped.”
There.
Children keep receipts.
I took a breath.
“You’re right that we gave you a bad example.”
He crossed arms.
“That doesn’t make punching okay.”
He hated that.
Good.
School consequence:
Lost recess for one day.
Apology.
No suspension.
At home:
No additional punishment beyond conversation.
Then Dr. Hart worked on:
Being falsely accused does not authorize violence.
Our family apparently needed that curriculum repeatedly.
Gwendolyn came over with pizza.
Percival told her.
She said:
“When people said ugly things about me after the wedding, I wanted to hit them too.”
“Did?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m learning.”
He considered.
Then:
“Everybody learning.”
I laughed.
May you like
“Unfortunately.”
That became family shorthand.
