Chapter 2 - What My Hand Would Not Let Go
Dad's arm came around me so fast it knocked the air out of me. One second I was pointing at her across the table, the next I was pressed hard into the side of his gray shirt. I could smell the soap on him and the warm food going cold on the plates. My cheeks were wet and my chest hurt from crying. My right hand was still stuck deep in my pocket, wrapped around what I'd put there.
"Emma," Dad said, low and right by my ear. "Tell me. What happened?"
I shook my head. I couldn't get the words out in the right order with her looking at me like that.
Vanessa was still standing at the other end of the table. She had both her hands flat on the white tablecloth, leaning forward. Her gold hoops caught the candlelight. For a second her mouth was open like she'd forgotten what face she was supposed to make. Then she fixed it. She smiled.
"Daniel, please," she said. Her voice was calm, too calm. "She's overtired. This is a tantrum."
I pressed harder into Dad. My fingers tightened in the pocket. The thing in there was small and hard at the edge. I didn't want her to see that I had it.
"It is not a tantrum," Dad said. He didn't yell. His voice shook a little. "She was crying before you even sat down. What did you say to her?"
Vanessa let out a short laugh and straightened up. She smoothed down the front of her dark red dress. "I asked her to sit up straight and use her fork. That's it. You know how she gets when she's tired. She makes things big."
I shook my head again, harder this time. Tears slid off my chin. "No," I whispered.
Dad looked down at me. "Then what, baby? Show me what's in your pocket. Let me see."
My hand wouldn't move. I kept holding on. If I showed it right there in front of her, she would take it. I knew she would. I stared at the plates and the glasses and the empty chair between us and kept my hand closed tight.
At the side of the table, Tyler moved his chair. The wood scraped loud against the floor. He was still sitting down in his dark suit, but he leaned back like he wanted to disappear into the china cabinet behind him. Glasses clinked in there when he bumped it.
"Tyler," Dad said. "Did you hear something?"
Tyler didn't look at Dad. He didn't look at me. He looked at his plate. He picked up his fork and put it down again.
"I — I wasn't really paying attention," he said. "We were just eating. I think Vanessa's right, man. She's just tired."
His voice sounded wrong. Thin. He kept glancing at Vanessa real quick and then away. My breathing came fast and loud in my ears.
Vanessa walked around the table toward us. Her heels clicked. Dad stepped back and pulled me with him, so she stopped.
"See?" she said, still smiling that tight smile. "Even Tyler saw it. Daniel, you're scaring her more by making this a thing. Emma, honey, come here. Tell Daddy you're just cranky. Show us your empty pocket and we can finish dinner."
She held out her hand. Her nails were dark and perfect. I buried my face in Dad's shirt and shook my head into the fabric.
"No," I said again. My voice was muffled. "Don't."
Dad's hand covered the outside of my pocket, gentle over my fist. He wasn't trying to pull it out, just feeling that something was there. I felt him breathe in slow and hold it.
"That's enough," he said. He looked at Vanessa. "Dinner's over."
Her smile dropped. "Daniel —"
"I said that's enough," he said. "We're done for tonight."
He lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around him and tucked my hand, still in my pocket, between us where no one could reach it. My hair fell over my face and stuck to my wet cheeks.
Vanessa's face went hard. She wasn't pretending anymore. "You're really going to do this? In front of my brother? Over a five-year-old's mood?"
May you like
Dad didn't answer her. He turned toward the doorway with me in his arms. Behind us I heard Tyler stand up fast and a glass rattle, and Vanessa say his name sharp under her breath.
Dad carried me out of the warm light of the dining room toward the dark stairs. I held on and didn't let go.
