I Clutched My Bunny While Daddy Ordered Her Out Before I Said Mommy Died

The tile was cold through my socks. That's what I remember first. Not the yelling, not the light coming hard through the tall windows behind the piano. Just the cold crawling up from the kitchen floor while she knelt on it with both hands pressed over her mouth.

She hadn't been kneeling to clean. The white apron over her black dress was still tied neat at her back, the collar and cuffs too white for that floor. There was a gray smudge on her cheek, flour or dust, and her eyes kept moving from the doorway to my dad and back to the doorway like she was counting how far she'd have to run. My sister in the lavender dress stood half behind her to the left, close enough that her shoe touched the edge of the rug. My other sister in pink was on my other side. Our bunny lay face-down by my foot.

My dad stood in front of us with his jacket pushed back on one side. I'd never seen him stand that still inside the house. His dark hair was slicked back and his chest showed where his black shirt hung open, the tattoos moving a little every time he breathed. The rose on his neck looked darker that morning. His right hand, the one with the ink across the knuckles, hovered near his waistband where his coat didn't quite cover something dark.

That morning I learned how quiet a big room could get.

My name is Lucia, I was the middle one in the light floral dress, and I didn't know yet that grown-ups could be scared of kids.

It was still morning because the fruit bowl on the island hadn't been moved and the vase with the white flowers was still full. The sun hit the marble and threw brightness across the polished tile. Outside I thought I heard rain, faint, though the windows were bright. Maybe I made that up later. What I didn't make up was her voice when she looked past my dad toward the hall.

"Who are you?" she said. Her hands didn't leave her mouth, so it came out muffled. Then louder, toward him, "Dominic, stop, please, wait."

He didn't look at her. He looked at us. His eyes were wide and his mouth was open a little, like he'd walked in expecting one thing and found us instead. He breathed shallow through his nose. I could see his chest tattoos rise and stop and rise again.

"Pack your things and fire her immediately."

He said it fast and flat, not to her. To whoever was supposed to be standing in that doorway behind us. I turned to look, but there was no one there. He was giving an order to empty air because he needed someone to obey him right then.

The maid shook her head without taking her hands down. Her shoulders trembled. I heard her breath catch behind her fingers. My sister in lavender leaned into her side and didn't make a sound. My sister in pink grabbed the hem of my dress and held on.

Nobody moved to pack anything. Nobody fired anybody. The piano sat behind them by the windows, lid closed. The bunny stayed where it had fallen.

I did the only thing I could think of. I stepped forward off the rug and reached up with both hands for my dad's coat. The fabric was heavy and cool. I tugged once, just enough to make him look down.

He looked down. His hand shifted closer to that dark shape at his waist, then stopped. He stared at my fingers on his jacket for a long second. His breathing slowed. When he spoke, his voice was lower, controlled, the way he talked when he didn't want his voice to shake.

"Lucia, what is it?"

I felt both my sisters watching me. I felt the maid watching me over her hands. The cold from the floor was in my ankles now. I looked up at him and I didn't blink because if I blinked I thought I'd lose the words. My lip was shaking and I could feel heat building behind my eyes.