Chapter 10 - The Music Stopped
I remember the music first because it didn't stop all at once. It got thin.
We were standing in the doorway back from the little office, and out on the dance floor the DJ was looping the same eight bars of something bright and brassy. He kept his hand on the fader and his eyes on Dad. He'd lift the needle talk just enough to fill air and then let it fall again. "Ladies and gentlemen, we're gonna take just a short pause—" His voice cracked over the speakers. "Grab a drink, check out the— uh, the dessert table."
Nobody moved toward dessert. Two hundred chairs scraped a little and then went quiet. The chandeliers threw that warm light straight down on the white tablecloths and the pink flowers going soft at the edges. I could hear ice shifting in glasses. Someone's aunt whispered, "Did she really—" and someone else shushed her too loud, which made it worse.
Dad's hand was still on my back. Not pushing, just there. His suit jacket was damp under my cheek where I'd leaned into him. I could feel his chest moving when he breathed.
My grandmother found us before we even stepped all the way back into the ballroom. Mom's mom, I mean Dad's mom, Carol. She wore a navy dress with short sleeves and the same small gold cross she always wore to church. She didn't look at the bride. She crouched down so her knees popped, right there on the ballroom carpet, to get level with me.
"Sweet pea," she said quietly. "You look wiped out. How about you come with Grammy for a bit? We can go sit in the lobby where it's cool. I brought mints in my purse."
She held her hand out, palm up. Her fingers shook a little. Behind her I could see two of Dad's cousins leaning in, watching us while pretending not to. One of them mouthed something to the other.
I looked at her hand and then at Dad. My tulle skirt was itchy on my legs and my braids had come loose on one side and were sticking to my neck. I didn't want mints. I didn't want the lobby with its big mirrors and the sound of the ice machine. I was scared if I left his side someone would start saying it again.
"Can I just stay with Dad?" I said. My voice came out smaller than I meant it to. "Please?"
Grammy glanced up at Dad. She didn't pull her hand back right away.
Dad knelt too. He was still tall even kneeling. He smoothed the loose braid back with one hand. "You can stay with me," he told me. "Okay? You're staying with me."
Grammy nodded once and stood up. She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Then I'm right here," she said. "Whatever you need."
The DJ tried again. "Folks, let's give our bride and groom a little—" He stopped because there was nowhere for the sentence to go. The bride was standing five feet from us in her white gown, her veil crooked, her earrings catching the light when she turned her head. Dad hadn't told the room anything yet, and everybody knew it.
Dad stood up slowly. He lifted me up with him, and I wrapped my arms around his neck without thinking. My shoes knocked against his leg. He didn't set me down.
He didn't walk to the center. He just turned enough so the nearest tables could see his face. He didn't take the microphone. That was what I remember most later, that he didn't make it a performance.
"I know you're waiting," he said. His voice carried just far enough. It wasn't loud. "Something happened tonight that shouldn't have happened to my daughter. I'm not going to get into it all here while she's standing right here."
A few people nodded. Someone near the cake table exhaled.
"We're going to pause the reception for a while," he said. "Get something to eat. I appreciate you being here. I'm going to take care of Lily first."
He didn't ask if that was okay. He didn't smile to soften it. Grammy stepped in close on my other side, blocking a little of the stare from the left tables.
May you like
The bride opened her mouth like she was going to add something hostess-bright. Dad looked at her once and shook his head, just a small shake. She closed it.
He carried me toward our table near the flowers, away from the dance floor, and the room let out a long breath behind us.
