Its chute extended into my yard.
Marlene stood beside it.
Arms crossed.
Watching.
Behind the wheel was her husband.
I recognized him immediately.
He owned a construction company.
The truck carried his company logo.
Then the mixer rotated.
And I heard it.
A thick, wet slap.
Concrete hit the water.
“No.”
Another heavy stream poured from the chute.
“No, no, no.”
Gray concrete was spilling directly into the deep end of Steve’s pool.
The last thing my husband had built.
The place my children still associated with their father.
Marlene looked toward my bedroom window.
Our eyes met.
And she smiled.
She wanted me awake.
She wanted me watching.
“MOMMY, WHAT’S THAT NOISE?”
A small voice came from behind me.
My daughter stood in the hallway rubbing her eyes.
“What’s happening?”
I forced myself not to break down.
“Go back to your room.”
She looked toward the window.
