Chapter 9 - High Shelf in the Dark
Daddy carried me down the upstairs hallway and I could feel his heart beating fast under his black shirt. The light up there was cooler than the dining room, just the white hallway bulbs and no candles. My lace dress caught on his silver watch for a second and he stopped to unhook it gently. I kept my arms tight around his neck. Veronica followed a few steps behind us in her burgundy dress. I heard her heels go quiet when we hit the runner rug.
He stopped in front of the linen closet. It was tall and narrow with a brass knob I had never been allowed to open by myself. The wood was dark like the dining table downstairs. Daddy shifted me to his left hip so he could reach it with his right hand. His tattoos moved when he turned the knob.
"I've already looked in there this week," Veronica said from behind us. Her voice was flat. She had her arms crossed and her diamond necklace caught the hall light when she breathed.
Daddy didn't look at her. "Then it won't take long to look again," he said.
The door swung open and warm, soapy air came out. The closet smelled like clean sheets and bleach. Inside were stacks of white towels and folded sheets, lined up so straight they looked like a store. A single bulb burned at the top. On the middle shelves were the washcloths I knew. On the bottom were extra blankets. I stared because everything was too neat, like nobody had touched it in a long time.
Veronica leaned against the doorframe. Her earrings swung a little when she tilted her head. "See? Towels. Are you satisfied?" she said.
Daddy breathed in through his nose and let it out slow. He wasn't yelling like before downstairs. His jaw was tight but his hands on me were careful. He looked up at the very top shelf where the stacks went into shadow. I couldn't see over the edge from where I was.
"Sof, you see better from up high," he said quietly. "You want to help me check the top?"
I nodded against his shoulder. My bow had slipped a little and the ribbon tickled my ear.
He bent his knees and then lifted me straight up in the air. His rolled sleeves pulled back and I could see the tattoos on his forearms flex. For a second my stomach dropped like on a swing. He held me solid under my legs with one arm and kept his other hand on my back. The hall light went away and the little closet bulb got brighter. Dust floated in it.
"Hold the side if you need to, baby," he said. "Tell me what you see."
I grabbed the wooden shelf edge. It was rough under my fingers. The top shelf was deep and piled with big bath towels folded over each other. Behind them it was dark. I leaned in a little and smelled more dust. My breathing sounded loud in that small space.
At first I only saw white. Then I saw a corner of something brown stuck behind the second stack. Not towel-white. Wood. A frame edge.
"There," I whispered. "Back there."
Daddy moved me a half step closer. "Where? Show me with your finger but don't touch yet."
I pointed. He followed my hand and reached over me. His shoulder pressed into my side. He had to push two heavy towels forward to get his hand in. They were stiff and made a soft thump when he set them on the shelf below. Veronica made a small sound behind us, like she sucked in air, but she didn't move.
His fingers found it. He pulled out a small wooden frame turned face-down. Dust came with it and made me blink. He turned it over slowly so the bulb hit the glass.
It was Mommy.
It was the little picture from my nightstand, the one where she was smiling outside and her hair was blowing. The glass had a smudge on one corner but it wasn't cracked. I knew the scratch on the bottom of the frame where I had dropped it once on the hardwood. My chest got tight all at once.
"Mommy," I said, and my voice cracked.
Daddy held the frame where I could reach it. "Yeah, baby. I got it," he said. His voice was low and rough.
I reached with both hands and grabbed it hard to my chest. The wood edge pressed into my chin. I breathed in fast and then out, and I didn't even care that I was squishing my dress. Relief washed over me so strong my legs kicked a little where Daddy held me. He tightened his grip so I wouldn't slip.
Veronica was still in the doorway. I looked at her over Daddy's shoulder while I held the picture. Her mouth was a straight line and she wasn't looking at the picture. She was looking at Daddy's hand on my back.
"That doesn't prove anything," she said quickly. "It probably fell in with the laundry."
Daddy lowered me just enough that my feet touched the rug but he didn't put the towels back. He kept one hand on me. He took the picture from me for a second, checked the back, then gave it right back. His eyes stayed on the dark space behind the towels.
"There's nothing else up there, Sof?" he asked. "Look good for Bunny."
I leaned forward again while still hugging the frame with one arm. I peered into the gap where the picture had been. It smelled empty now, just cotton and wood. No gray fur. No floppy ear. No stitched eye I always rubbed when I couldn't sleep.
May you like
I shook my head. My throat hurt. "Bunny's not here."
Daddy nodded once. He put the towels back neatly, but his hand lingered on the shelf like he was memorizing the spot. He picked me up again, picture and all, and turned to face Veronica in the narrow hall.
