The girl was quiet.
Then asked, "Is that enough?"
He closed his eyes.
"I don't know yet, sweetheart."
For a long moment, he stood beside the kitchen counter listening to his daughter's breathing.
Then he added, "But it's where we have to start."
The next morning, the widow woke before sunrise.
For a moment, she forgot what had happened.
She reached toward the empty side of the bed, as she sometimes did when she dreamed about her husband.
Then she remembered the sidewalk.
The sergeant.
The badge.
And her son's face when he recognized the damaged insignia.
She sat up slowly.
Her cheek felt tender.
The house was quiet.
She slipped on her slippers and walked toward the kitchen.
The general was already there.
He wore a plain dark T-shirt and casual trousers, with no decorations or visible rank. He stood beside the stove preparing eggs and toast.
When he saw her, he smiled.
"Morning, Mama."
She stared.
For a brief moment, she looked surprised.
Then smiled through tears.
"You stayed."
He laughed softly.
"Of course I stayed."
She approached the table.
He pulled out a chair.
Then placed a cup of tea in front of her.
She looked toward the plate.
"You don't have to cook for me."
He smiled.
"I know."
She sat.
For several minutes, they ate quietly.
Then she glanced toward the front window.
A patrol car drove slowly past the house.
Her entire body stiffened.
The general noticed immediately.
"Mama?"
She lowered her eyes.
"Nothing."
He looked toward the street.
Then back at her.
For a moment, he understood something he'd missed the previous evening.
His mother was afraid of the police now.
Not merely of the sergeant who hurt her.
Of the uniform.
The car.
And the possibility that another officer might arrive demanding answers she didn't know how to give.
He took a slow breath.
"Would you like the curtains closed?"
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Please."
He closed them.
When he returned, she looked embarrassed.
"I'm being foolish."
He sat opposite her.
"No."
She shook her head.
"I know most officers aren't like that."
He nodded.
"That's true."
"But every time I hear a car outside..."
Her voice faded.
For a moment, she looked down at her tea.
Then whispered, "I keep thinking he's coming back."
The general's throat tightened.
He reached across the table.
She took his hand.
He knew that a public apology or disciplinary announcement would not immediately remove that fear.