Chapter 1 - The Spoon Stopped Over the Bowl
The gold spoon shook a little in my hand and would not go down to the pasta. The white bowl was warm under my other palm and the steam kept rising into my face, and I stared at the twist of noodles like if I looked long enough Daddy would understand without me having to say it. Across the dark wood table the candles were lit and the cut-crystal water glass threw little squares of light, and everything smelled like butter and flowers and wax.
Daddy leaned in close beside my chair. His black button-up shirt pulled at the shoulder where his tattoos ran up his neck, his sleeves were rolled and his big silver watch touched the edge of the gold charger under my bowl. Behind him, past the white floral arrangements, Veronica watched us from her seat with her dark hair pinned up and her burgundy velvet dress catching the chandelier light, her diamond necklace flat against her skin and her mouth set in a hard line.
My name is Sofia and I was three that night.
I remember the dining room felt too big and too bright. The chandelier buzzed faint over the table and the tall windows showed only black night behind us. Daddy had pulled his chair right up to mine so his slicked dark brown hair and light stubble were all I could see at first, and his brow furrowed when he saw my face. My white bow had slipped to one side and my white lace dress itched at the neck, and I held that small gold spoon out over the pasta because I did not want to put it down.
He breathed in slow and waited. I looked down at the bowl and then back up at him, and my lips trembled before I could make the words come. I could hear my own breathing loud in my ears and the fork scrape of Veronica setting her glass down too carefully behind us. I did not look at her. I looked only at Daddy.
"Daddy, don't leave me alone with Veronica."
His eyes did not leave mine. The candlelight moved across his cheek and I saw the small lines tighten around his eyes. He tipped his head a fraction closer, like he wanted to make a safe space just for the two of us inside all that warm light and polished wood.
"Why, sweetheart?"
I swallowed. The spoon tipped and a drop of butter slid back into the bowl. I thought about my room upstairs where Bunny should have been on the pillow, and the empty spot on the shelf where Mommy's picture had lived, and my chest got tight. Veronica smiled like I had not spoken. That was when I knew I had to say it out loud.
"She takes Bunny and hides Mommy's picture."
For a second nobody moved. I heard only breathing, mine fast and his slower, and the soft pop of a candle. Daddy's jaw tightened. He glanced down at my spoon still hovering over the pasta, then his gaze shifted past me toward the background where Veronica sat frozen with her drop earrings catching the light. I stared at him and then at her, my hand clenched around the spoon.
May you like
He turned his head toward her. The push of his chair against the rug was soft, but it felt loud.
"Veronica, what is Sofia talking about?"
