Chapter 9 - The Cold Air Behind the Kitchen Door
Dad didn't leave me by the cake after all. I remember that because Grandmother's hand was tight on my shoulder and I wouldn't stop looking back down the hall where he'd gone. My bread bag crinkled every time I breathed. He came back fast, his shoes loud on the ballroom floor, and he bent down and said I could come with him if I stayed close. Grandmother started to say no, but Dad just lifted me up.
The hallway felt even colder the second time. The lights buzzed over us and made everything look white. I held my bitten roll tight while Dad carried me past the metal tray still sitting on the floor. At the end by the stacked boxes, there was a heavy gray door with a little wired window. Dad knocked hard with his fist.
"Mom?" he called.
I heard her voice, thin through the door. "Andy? I'm here."
My chest got tight. I pressed my face into his suit. His tie smelled like warm ballroom and outside cold mixed together. He knocked again and tried the handle. It didn't move. There was a metal bolt up high and a lock down low that needed a key.
He set me down but kept my hand in his. He kept knocking for the kitchen staff. A young man in a white shirt and black apron came out with a bus tub full of glasses. He stopped when he saw us.
"Sir, guests aren't supposed to be back here," he said.
Dad didn't let go of my hand. "My wife is locked outside that door. I need it opened now."
The staff guy looked at the door, then at me and my plastic bag. "I don't have the key for the exterior. Only the manager does."
"Then get him," Dad said. His voice was low, not yelling, but it didn't shake.
The guy put the tub down and went back toward the kitchen. The hallway went quiet except for the buzz. I could hear Mom shifting outside, her shoes scraping on concrete. Dad crouched down next to me.
"She's okay," he said. "You hear her, right?"
I nodded. I wanted to talk through the door, but my throat felt plugged up.
When the manager came, he was older, with a radio on his hip. He looked annoyed until he saw Dad's suit and the way Dad stood. Dad said, "That's my wife outside. Open it."
The manager used his keys. First the low lock clicked, then he had to slide the high bolt with his whole hand. Cold air rushed in the second it cracked open. It smelled like parking lot and rain.
Mom stepped inside. I just stared at first. Her hair was damp and stuck to her cheeks. She wore jeans and a dark sweater that wasn't fancy at all, and her arms were wrapped around herself. Her fingers looked red from cold. She saw me and her face broke.
"Oh, baby," she whispered.
She dropped to her knees on the concrete and pulled me in. The plastic bag squished between us. She was freezing. I put my bitten roll against her sweater without thinking, like it could help.
Dad shut the door behind her but didn't lock it. He took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders. She kept shivering.
"I brought the rolls," Mom said after a second, looking at Dad. She touched the bag. "She hadn't eaten since lunch. The gala ran late and they said the kitchen was closed for guests. I ran to the store across the street."
Dad nodded. He rubbed her arm to warm her. "Why didn't you come back in?"
Mom glanced down the hallway toward the music. Her voice got smaller. "Your mother met me by the service entrance. She said I wasn't dressed for the room. She said I'd embarrass you in front of everyone if I walked in like this. She told me to wait out there until she could bring Lily something."
I looked up at Dad. His jaw moved. He didn't say anything bad about Grandmother. He just pulled Mom and me a little closer, so we were all in one huddle by the cold door.
"We're going back in," he said quietly. "Not out there."
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Mom shook her head fast. "Andy, look at me. I can't walk past that cake in jeans."
Dad looked down the long hallway toward the warm light spilling from the ballroom. Then he looked back at us. "Give me a minute to figure out how," he said.
