Chapter 3 - Smiles for the Room
Dad didn't put me down. His arm stayed tight under my legs and his tie pressed against my cheek when he breathed. I could feel his heart beating fast through his white shirt.
Grandmother smiled. It was not like her smile in pictures. This one stayed only on her mouth and didn't go up to her eyes.
She held her champagne glass up a little, like she was going to make a toast. The gold drink moved but didn't spill. "Andy," she said, soft and sweet. "Not here, honey."
A lady behind her in a black dress turned to look. Then a man with shiny shoes. I heard music and cups clicking, and then it got quiet right around us. My face got hot.
I looked down at my shirt. There was a pink shirt with a dark spot where the bread had touched it when I was crying. My blue pants had dust from the hallway floor. The plastic bag crackled in my hand. I tried to hide the bitten roll inside it, but the bag was clear and everybody could see.
Dad felt me pull in. "It's okay," he whispered against my hair. He didn't look at the people. He looked at Grandmother. "Mother, we need to talk."
Grandmother laughed a little, just enough for the people next to us to hear. "Of course we can chat, darling. After the cake cutting." She touched his sleeve with her free hand. Her pearl necklace moved when she breathed. "You're upsetting the guests."
"I'm not putting her down," Dad said. His voice was low. I felt it more than I heard it.
I held the bag tighter. The plastic stuck to my sweaty fingers. An older girl in a white twirly dress stared at my bread and then whispered something to her mom. The mom shushed her, but she kept staring. I wanted to put the roll behind my back, but Dad was holding me and I couldn't move right.
Grandmother saw them looking too. Her smile got thinner. She stepped closer, and I smelled flowers and something cold from her glass.
"Sweetheart," she said to me now, in that party voice. "Why don't you let Grandmother hold that bag for you? Just while we take a picture? You don't want to get crumbs on your pretty face."
My throat got tight. Mom had given me that bag. She had said to keep it with me. I shook my head and pressed it to my chest. A crumb fell onto Dad's black suit. I tried to brush it off fast.
"She keeps it," Dad said.
Grandmother's eyes went quick to his face. "Andy, please," she said, still smiling. "People came a long way for tonight. Let's not do this by the cake."
The big white cake was right next to us. Three layers with white roses on top. A man holding a camera was standing near the column, not sure if he should take a picture or not. The lights from the chandelier made everything yellow and warm, different from the cold light in the hallway.
Dad looked around once, at all the faces. I felt his jaw move. "Three minutes. Somewhere quiet. Right here," he said. "I'm not leaving this room without her."
Grandmother nodded like he had agreed with her. "Good. Good boy. Just over by the column, out of the way." She turned her body a little and lifted her hand toward the side of the room, where the curtains hung heavy and dark between the columns. "Come with me, both of you. We'll fix this."
She started to walk, slow, her purple dress moving quiet on the floor. She smiled at a couple as she passed them. "Excuse us," she said. "Family moment."
Dad waited a second. Then he shifted me higher in his arms so I wouldn't slip. The bag crinkled loud in the quiet.
May you like
"You with me?" he whispered.
I nodded into his neck and held on to the bread. We followed her three steps away from the cake toward the edge where nobody was standing.
