Chapter 15 - Spoon Down Beside Bunny
I don't remember a clock ticking after that, only how quiet the dining room got. The candles had burned low and the pasta on my plate had gone cold and stuck together. Daddy kept me up on his hip with one arm locked tight around me, and I could feel his heart beating hard through his black shirt. His rolled sleeve was damp where I'd been holding on.
He didn't put me down when we left the table. He carried me past the gold chargers and the white flowers and the cut-crystal glass that hadn't been touched all night. My gold spoon was still in my hand. I'd held it through everything and my fingers had gone stiff around it.
The hall to the front of the house had those tall windows Daddy liked. At night they turned black and showed us back to ourselves. I saw us in the glass as we walked — him with his slicked hair messed a little now, me small against his shoulder in my white lace dress, my bow hanging loose on one side.
I heard her heels first on the wood floor. I didn't look straight at her. I didn't have to. In the window glass I watched her shape move past us toward the front door with her coat over her arm and her purse in her hand. Her diamond necklace caught the hall light once. She didn't stop. She didn't say my name or Daddy's name. The front door opened and cold air came in for a second and smelled like wet driveway, and then it shut with a soft heavy sound.
Daddy didn't move until her car lights swept once across the windows and were gone. His jaw was still tight. Then he breathed out slow through his nose and turned his face into my hair.
"Let's go upstairs, baby," he whispered.
He carried me up the stairs and my legs dangled against his side. My room looked different than it had at dinner. The lamp by my bed was on and threw a warm circle on the wall. The bed was still messed from where I'd been sitting earlier, and the closet door was still half open. For a second my stomach dropped because I remembered how empty it had felt when Bunny wasn't there.
Daddy sat down on the edge of my bed with me in his lap and set something on my nightstand with both hands, like it mattered how straight it stood. It was Mommy's picture. The frame was cool and a little wet on the corner, and there was a smudge on the glass. He wiped it clean with his thumb, then wiped his thumb on his pants. He moved the lamp a little so the light hit her face right.
"There," he said. His voice was low and rough. "That's where she stays."
I stared at it. Mommy was smiling in the picture the way I remembered, and I felt my throat get tight. I reached out and touched the edge of the frame with one finger to make sure it was real. Daddy watched my hand and didn't rush me. He just kept his big hand on my back, steady.
Then he stood Bunny up between us. Bunny was damp and flat-looking, her fur stuck together where she'd been washed. One ear flopped down. Daddy made a small sound in his chest when he saw her like that.
"Come here," he murmured, and got the soft white towel from my bathroom. He sat back down and laid Bunny across his knees and patted her, not rubbing. He pressed the towel around her ears and her paws and her belly, then lifted and pressed again. He was careful like he was afraid he'd hurt her. I helped. I patted her head with my whole palm the way he'd shown me to pet a kitten once, light and one way.
Slowly her fur came back up. She didn't look brand new. She looked loved and a little tired, which was how she was supposed to look. Daddy held her to his face for a second to check if she was still wet, and his stubble made a soft scratch sound on her ear. Then he handed her to me.
I pulled her straight into my chest. She smelled like clean towel and my shampoo and a little like Daddy's shirt. I breathed her in and my shoulders dropped for the first time all night.
Daddy opened his arms. I crawled into them with Bunny squished between us and turned my face into his neck. His silver watch was cold against my arm. He wrapped both arms around me and rocked just a little, heel to toe where he sat.
"You did good telling me," he said into my hair. "I'm listening now."
I nodded against him. My gold spoon was still in my fist and the handle was poking into my palm. I pulled back enough to look at Bunny and at Mommy's picture glowing under the lamp. Then I laid the spoon down on the blanket right beside Bunny's paw, careful, so it wouldn't roll off.
I remember that sound. Just a tiny clink when the metal touched nothing. It meant dinner was over. It meant I didn't have to hold on so tight anymore.
Daddy looked at the spoon, then at me. His eyes were wet but he wasn't crying. He brushed my wavy hair back and fixed my bow the best he could.
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"I've got you," he said. He paused and swallowed. "I won't ever leave you alone with Veronica again. That's a promise."
I believed him because his voice didn't shake when he said it. I leaned forward and put my arms around his neck as far as they would go and squeezed. He held me back just as tight, with Bunny warm between us and Mommy's picture close enough I could see it without turning my head. The house was quiet. No heels. No whispers. Just his breathing and mine settling into the same rhythm until I felt safe enough to close my eyes.
