Chapter 2 - The Morning After the Whisper
I woke up with the frame pressed against my cheek.
The bedroom wasn't dark anymore. Morning light came through the blinds in thin stripes and laid across the dark wood floor. The white bookcase was still there with the bears looking down at me, the bunny with the blue ears tipped forward like someone had brushed it. I hadn't let go. My fingers had gone tight around the silver edge all night and my palm was sweaty underneath it.
Dad was on the floor beside my bed. He hadn't made it back to his own room. His navy sweater was wrinkled and his legs were stretched out in his gray pants, his back against the wall. He was breathing slow and his eyes were open, not sleeping, just watching the ceiling. His silver watch had slid partway down his wrist.
I didn't say anything. I just sat up and held the picture closer. Mom was still in it. That meant she could still see me.
That morning Dad was supposed to be the one who did everything right.
He stood up slowly, his knees popping. He looked at me and then at the photo and he didn't tell me to put it down. He just held out his hand.
"Hey, kiddo," he said, quiet. "You hungry?"
I nodded but I didn't take his hand. I held the frame with both hands now, against my chest, and walked behind him. In the hallway the air smelled like coffee and the apartment was cold on my bare feet. Jenna was already in the kitchen.
She was in her cream sweater again and her beige trousers, her long blonde hair pulled back. She was at the stove with a spatula, and there was a plate of pancakes on the counter. She'd tried to make them small, kid-sized, with a little face made out of blueberries.
She saw me and she smiled, but not too big. "I made pancakes," she said. "I remembered you like blueberries. I was thinking I could drive you to daycare today, so your dad can get to work. The pick-up line's been crazy this week, so maybe drop-off will be easier."
It was a normal thing to say. It was supposed to be nice. I looked at the pancakes and then at her and I stepped closer to Dad's leg.
I didn't want pancakes from her. I didn't want her to drive me. I shook my head once, small.
Jenna's smile didn't drop all at once. It just got quieter. She set the spatula down and wiped her hands on a dish towel. "That's okay," she said. "They'll be here if you want one later."
Dad moved between us without making it look like he was moving between us. He got a plastic plate down from the cabinet and poured me milk. When he reached for the milk carton I saw it, the thin silver band on his left hand catching the kitchen light. He still wore it. He'd worn it last night when he was kneeling beside me, and he was wearing it now while he poured my milk and didn't tell me I was being rude.
He set the plate down at the little table where I sat to eat. He didn't put a pancake on it right away. He looked at the frame in my hands.
"Do you want to keep her with you while you eat?" he asked me.
I held it tighter. I thought he was going to say to leave it in my room, like last night when Jenna had said bed, now.
He glanced toward Jenna, then back at me. His brow furrowed the same way it had in my bedroom.
"You can," he said. "You can bring her to the table. Just keep her safe, okay? Be careful with the glass."
I didn't know how to answer except to do it. I set the silver frame up against the milk carton so Mom faced me. I could see her and she could see me. That was what she said. That was why it mattered where I put it.
Jenna slid the plate of pancakes to the middle of the table instead of putting one directly on my plate. She didn't push. She poured herself coffee and stood by the counter, not at the table, giving me space. I reached and took the plain edge of one pancake with my fingers and ate it dry. I didn't touch the blueberry face.
Dad sat down across from me. He didn't eat. He watched me arrange the frame twice, making sure it didn't fall.
May you like
"That's a good spot," he said softly.
I nodded. I kept my eyes on the photo. Dad's wedding band tapped lightly against his mug when he lifted it. I kept looking at it and then at Mom in the picture, trying to make sure both of them were still there.
