Dirty Grape

Roseli and I are eating lunch today. Ethan is sitting in the living room, and Roseli asks Ethan from the table, “Ethan, do you want a grape?”

“Yeah,” Ethan replies.

Roseli takes a grape and throws it toward Ethan. The wet grape rolls along the carpet, and Ethan grabs it and puts it in his mouth.

“What did you do with my wife?” I ask Roseli. This couldn’t have been the same woman who fed Ethan only organic food, who was addicted to Purell. This couldn't have been the same woman and who always cut grapes, carrots, hot dogs, anything round, into quarters before feeding it to her son.

“She’s still asleep,” came her reply.