Chapter 2 - What She Said About The Closet
The quiet after my question lasted too long. The candles on the side table kept burning and I could hear one of them hissing where the wax had pooled. Nobody touched their wine. Behind Lily, the pink flowers I'd put in a low vase blurred every time I blinked.
Vanessa's hand hadn't moved off her belly. Her fingers pressed into the beige satin until the fabric wrinkled. Mark stood close enough that his sleeve brushed her arm, but he wasn't looking at her. He was looking past me, toward the hallway, like he wanted the floor to give him somewhere else to be.
I shifted Lily's weight on my hip. She was getting heavy. Her little arm was still tight around my neck, her cheek damp against my collar.
"Lily," I said, and I kept my voice low on purpose. I didn't want the whole room leaning in. "Honey, what did you mean, in the closet?"
She turned her head. She didn't point this time. She just stared toward the white paneled door down the hall with the black lever handle. Closed. It had been closed all evening.
"She hit it," Lily said, very plain.
I felt Vanessa inhale sharply.
"Don't," Vanessa said. "Don't do that. Don't let her just — say things."
I looked at her. Her updo had loosened a little at the side, one strand stuck to her cheek. Under the warm lamplight her face was flushed, angry and scared at once.
"I'm just asking what she saw," I said.
"She's three," Vanessa said. "She doesn't know what she saw. She imagined it." She looked around at the faces watching us. "Tell her to take it back. Maya, tell her to apologize."
The word apology landed hard in my living room. My neighbor from across the street took a step back toward the couch, pulling her husband with her. Someone set a wine glass down too carefully on the coffee table.
Lily pressed closer to me. I could feel her heart beating fast through her light floral dress, the little bow at the back crushed between her and my arm.
"Vanessa," I said. "She's not—"
"She called me a liar in front of everyone," Vanessa cut in. Her voice rose and then cracked. She glanced at Mark. "Say something."
Mark cleared his throat. His white shirt was open at the collar and damp at the neck. He'd been smiling in the photos earlier. Now his eyes were wide and fixed.
"Hey," he said, with a short laugh that didn't fit. "It's — it's been a long night, right? Lots of sugar, lots of excitement. Kids say stuff." He gestured with his glass toward Lily, then toward the hallway, not really pointing at anything. "Maybe she saw a coat fall or something. Closets are — you know how closets are."
He didn't look at Vanessa when he said it. He didn't look at me either.
Vanessa turned on him. "That's not—" She stopped herself. Her hand slid a little lower on her belly, protective. "You heard what she said."
Mark rubbed the back of his neck. "I just think we should — can we get some air? Open a window? It's warm in here."
Nobody moved to open a window.
I felt Lily's fingers twist in the sleeve of my blue floral dress. She whispered, so quiet only I heard, "The little thing has flowers."
I held her tighter. I wanted to ask her again, right there, what little thing, but Vanessa was staring at us and Mark was staring at the floor and every guest in my house was waiting for me to pick a side.
I wasn't going to do that with Lily in my arms. I wasn't going to walk down that hall and grab that black handle and yank that door open while my three-year-old watched, like this was some show I was putting on for the party.
So I shook my head, just once.
"We're not doing this here," I said. My voice was steady, though my hands weren't. "Not like this. Not in front of her."
Vanessa let out a breath through her nose. "So you believe her."
"I didn't say that," I said.
May you like
"You didn't have to," she said.
Mark finally looked up. For a second I thought he might step between us. Instead he took a long drink and set his jaw, his eyes flicking again to that closed white door and then away, as if looking at it too long would make it open on its own.
