Chapter 13 - The Apology She Practiced in the Mirror
She waited until the room got quiet again. That was her thing. She liked an audience that was already watching.
Her mascara had smeared down one cheek and her long dark hair stuck to her neck. The burgundy velvet dress was wrinkled at the knees from where she'd fallen. She came closer slow, her heeled sandals clicking on the marble, and stopped about three feet from us. Not too close. Dad shifted so his arm stayed in front of me and Maya.
"I am so sorry," she said. Her voice shook. She pressed her hand to her chest. "This night was supposed to be perfect for all of us. For the foundation. And I ruined it. I ruined your father's big night."
Maya's fingers tightened on Dad's shirt. I could feel her breathing go fast again.
Dad didn't move. "Ruined the night?" he said. His voice was low. "Say what you did."
She blinked at him. Tears filled her eyes. "I lost my temper. You know how much pressure I've been under with this gala. Everyone staring at us. Everyone judging."
Around us I heard shoes shift. The onlookers in their suits and dresses were still in a half circle. One older woman had her phone down now, but she was listening hard. A man in a tux near the double doors crossed his arms.
Dad shook his head once. "Not pressure. Say it. You raised a bat over my kids."
She flinched at the word bat like it hurt her. The dark wooden bat was still on the floor by the wall where security had left it. She glanced at it and looked away fast.
"I would never hurt them," she said. "You have to believe me. I just — I snapped."
I felt my stomach turn. My hands were sweating. Dad looked down at me, just a quick look, like he was checking if I could do it. We'd talked about using our voices. This was it.
I swallowed. My throat felt dry. "Why did you raise it twice?" I asked.
Her eyes snapped to me. For a second the crying face slipped. Just a flash of anger, then it was gone.
"What?" she said.
"You raised it," I said. My voice came out smaller than I wanted. I tried again. "First over us. Then you swung it down. Why twice?"
She let out a breath that sounded like a laugh but wasn't. "Honey, I was upset. I'd had wine, okay? Two glasses on an empty stomach with all the stress. I wasn't thinking straight. I just wanted you both to stand still and smile for once."
Maya made a little sound next to me. "We were crying," she whispered.
"I know, baby," the stepmother said quickly, reaching her hand out toward Maya. Maya leaned back into Dad. The woman's hand hung in the air, then dropped. "I know. And I'm sorry you were scared. I'm sorry everyone had to see this."
Dad stood up slowly, keeping one hand on my shoulder. He stepped forward half a step so he was between her and us.
"You're apologizing for the gala," he said. "Not for the bat."
"That's not fair," she said, and now tears were really coming. "I said I'm sorry. What else do you want me to say in front of all these people?"
"The truth," Dad said. "You brought that bat into this hall. You raised it over a seven-year-old and a ten-year-old. Say that part."
She looked around at the faces watching us. The chandeliers threw light down hard on all of us. I could see sweat on her upper lip.
"I was stressed and I'd been drinking," she said again, louder, like that explained it. "I'm not some monster. Ask anyone here. I planned this whole night."
Nobody answered her. The older woman with the phone shook her head a little. The man by the doors didn't move.
Dad looked down at me and Maya again. "Did that sound like an apology to you?" he asked quietly.
May you like
I shook my head. Maya buried her face in his side and didn't say anything, but her head moved no.
The stepmother stared at us. "You're going to do this here?" she whispered. "You're going to turn my own family against me?"
