Chapter 12: The Conversation Without Me
They didn't send me to my room. That was the first thing I noticed.
Dad looked at me on the sofa and I had the book on my lap, the tape catching the light from the window. He said, "Sophie, we're going to talk in the kitchen. You stay right there, okay? You can hear us."
Vanessa was standing by the bookshelf with her arms crossed, but not like before. Her shoulders were lower. She nodded once and didn't look at me, which I was glad for. I pulled my feet up onto the black leather cushion and held the book with both hands. The leather was cool against my socks.
They walked the eight steps to the kitchen. It wasn't far. Our apartment was open, so the sofa and the desk and the kitchen were all one long room. Dad had to walk past his desk with the silver laptop closed on it. I watched his white shirt as he went.
I could hear everything. They didn't whisper.
Vanessa started. Her voice was thin. "I keep thinking she looks at me and sees a replacement," she said. "I walk in here and there are pictures of her mom everywhere, and that book is always out, and I don't know how to be anything to her except the woman who isn't her mother. I was scared I would always be second."
I stared at the tape on the cover. The clouds didn't line up perfectly.
Dad leaned against the kitchen counter. He rubbed his beard the way he did when he was tired. "You aren't second," he said. "But you aren't her mom either. I never asked you to be. I let you try to discipline her because I didn't want to fight about it. I stayed at that desk so I wouldn't have to hear it."
He pointed without meaning to, back toward the desk and then toward the sofa where I was. "That distance. I built it. I told myself working was protecting you both. It wasn't. It was hiding. I failed to protect her space to miss her mom. That book was her mom's voice before bed. It wasn't just a toy."
Vanessa's hands tightened on her beige blouse. For a second I thought she would get mad again. But she breathed out slow.
"I hated that book," she said, and her voice cracked. "Not because it was a kid's book. Because every night she wanted it and not me. I wanted to be good at this, David. I wanted you to see I could handle being a mom instantly. When she wouldn't give it to me, when she said please and held it tighter, I felt like I was failing in front of you both. So I tore it. I wanted to prove I could control something."
The kitchen was quiet except the refrigerator humming. Dad didn't interrupt her. I could see his face from the side. His eyes were wet but he wasn't crying like I had.
He said, "I understand you felt pressure. I put it on you by moving you in so fast, by wanting help. But you can't take that pressure out on a six-year-old. You tore her mother's book while she begged you to stop. That's not failing at being a mom. That's a choice you made to hurt her because you were hurting."
Vanessa nodded and wiped under her eyes with her fingers. "I know," she said. "I have been telling myself it was about respect. It wasn't. It was about me being jealous of a woman who isn't even here. And of a little girl who loves her."
Dad looked over at me then, quick, to check I was okay. I wasn't hiding. I was listening with the book pressed to my chest. He turned back to Vanessa.
"This apartment doesn't work if I'm at my desk pretending everything is fine while she's on that sofa needing me," he said. "The setup let us avoid each other until it blew up. I can't let that happen again."
Vanessa swallowed. "So what happens now?"
Dad answered without a pause, like he'd already decided before they walked to the kitchen. "You can't stay here tonight. Not just tonight. You need to leave for a while. Indefinite. Get your own place. We need space where I can be her dad first, alone, without anyone else trying to parent her."
I felt my chest get tight, not scared tight, but listening tight. I held the book tighter.
Vanessa closed her eyes for a long second. Then she said, "Okay." Her voice was small but steady. "I'll pack this afternoon. I won't make this her fault. I won't make you beg me to go."
Dad nodded. "Thank you for saying that."
They didn't hug. They just stood there a few feet apart in the kitchen light. After a minute Dad walked back toward me, and Vanessa stayed by the counter looking out the window at the city. I heard him coming and I didn't pretend I hadn't heard. I looked up at him.
He knelt down in front of the sofa so we were at the same height, like he had that first night. He put his hand lightly on the edge of the book.
"You heard all of that, didn't you?" he asked softly.
I nodded. The tape glinted again.
He said, "We decided together. Vanessa is going to move out. This will be just you and me for a while."
May you like
I didn't know what to say, so I just breathed. The apartment felt quieter, but not empty. It felt like the space between the desk and the sofa had gotten smaller.
Behind him, I could hear Vanessa opening the closet in the hallway. A suitcase wheel squeaked.
