Chapter 7 - The Pink Sash
Dad carried me upstairs himself. He didn't let anyone else do it.
The music from downstairs was still going, low and messy, like people didn't know if they were supposed to keep dancing. My head was on his shoulder and his suit jacket smelled like wine and heat. My pink dress bunched up around my knees. The sash had come loose and the long end dragged against the steps as we went up.
My room was dark except for the little lamp by my bed. Dad turned it on with his elbow because his hands were holding me. The hallway behind us was quiet. No Mom's heels. Just our breathing.
"I've got you," he said. "Let's get you out of this dress, okay?"
I nodded into his neck.
He set me on the edge of my bed and knelt down so his eyes were level with mine. His white shirt was wrinkled now, pulled half out of his pants. He reached for the sash first, to untie it like he'd done a hundred times after church. His fingers were clumsy on the knot.
When he tugged, I felt it pull right under my arm where Mom had grabbed me by the banquet table. I sucked in a breath before I could stop it.
Dad stopped. "Does that hurt?"
I shook my head fast, even though it did a little. Not like a big hurt. Like a sore spot when your skin is pinched too hard. The sash had wrinkled there, and the fabric was darker where something wet had gotten on it. I didn't want him to look.
He was gentle after that. He lifted the dress up over my head slow, and I raised my arms like I was supposed to. Underneath, my undershirt was twisted. He smoothed it out with his hand. Then he saw it.
It wasn't big. Just a pink mark, long like fingers, high on my side under my ribs. He stared at it and his mouth got tight. He didn't touch it. He just breathed out through his nose.
"Did that happen tonight, sweetheart?" he asked real quiet.
I looked at my hands. I didn't say yes and I didn't say no. Downstairs, someone dropped a plate and it clattered, and I jumped.
There was a knock then, soft on my doorframe. It was her. The maid. She had a small white washcloth folded over her hand and steam was coming off it a little.
"Sorry," she whispered. "I brought warm water. For her face. If that's okay."
Dad looked up and nodded. He moved over so she could come close.
She knelt by my bed too, not standing over me. She held the cloth near my cheek first so I could feel the warmth before she touched me. "Just your forehead and hands," she said. "Like always."
I leaned into it. The cloth was soft and warm and smelled clean. She wiped my cheeks where the tears had dried sticky. Then my hands, one finger at a time. She didn't scrub. She patted.
Dad watched her hands. He watched how I didn't pull away from her at all.
A car door slammed outside, and then a man's voice laughed too loud in the driveway below my window. Dad stood up fast to pull my curtains shut. The metal rings scraped on the rod and it was loud. His arm went up quick to reach the top.
I threw my hands over my head and ducked down into my pillow.
Everything stopped.
I heard the curtain fall closed. I heard Dad say, "Hey. Hey, hey." His voice cracked. I kept my eyes shut tight because I thought I'd done something wrong.
The bed dipped when he sat beside me. He didn't touch me right away. He put his hand flat on the blanket between us so I could see it.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I moved too fast. I'm not mad. Nobody's mad."
I opened one eye. His hand was just lying there, open. The maid was still kneeling by the bed, her own hands folded in her lap, waiting.
"It's okay to be scared," she said low. "You're safe up here."
Dad looked from me to her. I could see him putting something together in his head. How I'd curled into her downstairs. How I leaned into her washcloth now. How I ducked from him, not because he ever hurt me, but because a raised arm in this house meant something else.
He swallowed hard and pulled my pajama shirt down over my head for me, careful around my side. Then he tucked the blanket up to my chin.
May you like
He looked at the maid for a long second. "Can you write down dates for me?" he said, very quiet, like he didn't want even the walls to hear. "Just when you saw things. Privately. Don't show anyone else."
She nodded once, her eyes wet. "Yes, sir. I will."
