The Balcony Rule

Pearl was mostly potty trained, which is a phrase that means almost never, and Damon had decided almost never wasn't an accident, it was defiance.

The first time I saw it happen for real, Pearl had wet through her leggings at the dinner table, and Damon picked her up under the arms like she weighed nothing, walked her to the sliding door, and set her down on the other side of it without raising his voice even once.

"Two minutes," he said through the glass, holding up two fingers so she could see them. "You can come back in when you're calm."

She wasn't crying when he put her out there. She started about ten seconds later, which felt like the whole point somehow, like the crying was the thing being tested rather than the accident.

I counted in my head. Two minutes became four became something closer to ten, Damon back on the couch, not looking at the clock at all, and when I finally said something he told me, not unkindly, that I was nine and didn't understand consequences yet.

My mom worked a double that night. By the time she got home Pearl was asleep, and Damon's version of the evening — a little tantrum, handled, no big deal — was the only version anyone told her.