Chapter 1 - The Foyer Before the Door Opened
The marble was cold through my shoes and the box was warm from where I'd held it too tight. I stood to the left of the big chair with the gold arms, tucked up close to the blue hydrangeas because they were taller than me and I thought if I stayed beside them nobody would see that I was crying. The foyer smelled like flowers and hot candle wax and somebody's perfume, and the chandelier threw light all over the cream walls until everything looked too bright to blink. My braids had gone damp at the ends. I pressed the little gift box wrapped in beige paper with the white satin bow right to my chest and tried to breathe without making a sound, which only made my shoulders shake harder.
That was the contradiction I couldn't fix. I was supposed to be happy because I'd brought the present myself, carried all the way in from the parking lot and up the steps, and at the same time I was crying where everyone coming in for pictures could see me. The bow had a bent corner where my thumb kept rubbing it. She came in from the right fast, red hair pulled back in a low bun, her dark green dress moving around her knees, one pearl earring catching the light when she turned her head toward me. She didn't slow down.
My name is Emma. I was seven that night in the foyer.
It was 7:40 and the reception was still going behind the double doors. I could hear glasses and low laughing and music that kept starting and stopping. Caleb was supposed to stay with me by the wall while Dad finished talking to the donors, but he'd gone to check the hallway for him and then she was just there. I saw her shoes first on the marble, then her hand. She leaned in so close I could see the small lines at the side of her mouth. Her eyes didn't leave my face.
"Stop crying."
I tried. I sucked air in and held it and the tears kept coming anyway and made the bow go blurry. I heard Caleb's shoes squeak when he ran back. He stepped straight into the center between us in his white button-down shirt with the chest pocket and his dark pants, and put his arm out a little like he could block her view of me. She shifted her weight and pointed past him at the box, then at me, then her whole attention went to him. The air conditioner kicked on over us and one hydrangea petal dropped to the floor.
She got down face-to-face with him. I watched her jaw tighten and her eyes move slow over his face, measuring him. Up close her stare wasn't loud. It was still and angry and it didn't blink. Caleb lifted his chin even though his lower lip was starting to go.
"How are you doing to make an out this?"
His hands were fists at his sides. He didn't look at me, but I felt him lean back half an inch toward where I stood by the chair, making sure I was still there. His voice shook when it came out and he had to swallow first. The chandelier buzzed faintly overhead.
May you like
"Don't touch her."
Nobody moved after that. The music behind the doors kept playing and then cut. A glass clinked somewhere far off. She stayed leaned in, he stayed planted between us, I stayed left with the box crushed to my pink tulle dress, crying without wiping my face because both my hands were holding on. Then the air changed in the background doorway. A man in a dark suit with a white shirt and dark tie stepped into the light, his beard dark against his face, one foot forward on the marble as he started walking toward us.
