Chapter 4 - The Burgundy Dress in the Doorway
Dad had sat down on the rug with me. Not on my bed where grown-ups sit to say goodnight and leave. On the rug, where my legs could touch his knee.
The hall light made a thin line under my bedroom door. I could hear the clink of a plate from downstairs, like somebody had picked up a fork and put it back down. Dad's breathing was slow next to me. He didn't ask again right away about my pocket. He just waited.
I had my hand curled around what was inside. It was warm from my skin. I almost pulled it out. I wanted to show him fast before I got scared again.
Then the door opened without a knock.
The light from the hall got wide all at once. Vanessa stood there in her dark burgundy dress. Her hair was still pulled back tight and her earrings caught the light. She didn't smile. Her eyes went first to Dad on the floor, then straight to me.
"What is going on up here?" she said.
Dad stood up quick. He didn't stand all the way tall at first because the ceiling felt low over the rug, but then he did. He stepped sideways so his body was between her and me. I could see her shoes past his leg, but not her face unless I leaned.
"We're talking," Dad said. His voice was low. "Give us a minute."
Vanessa didn't move. She held the door frame with one hand. Her nails were red against the white paint. "Daniel, dinner is getting cold. Tyler is still down there. We can't just disappear."
"I said give us a minute," Dad said again.
I scooted back until my back hit the side of my bed. My fingers pushed the thing in my pocket down deeper, past the seam. I could feel the pocket flap fold over it. I kept my hand in there so she couldn't see the shape.
Vanessa looked past Dad at me. "Emma, come downstairs now. This isn't how we act on dinner nights."
I didn't answer. My throat felt too tight. I shook my head just a little.
Her mouth got thin. "She does this since the wedding," she said to Dad, like I wasn't there. "She makes up stories for attention. You know she does."
Dad's shoulders went still. I heard him breathe in through his nose. "Don't call her a liar," he said. "Not tonight."
"I'm not calling her anything," Vanessa said. "I'm telling you what this is. She pointed at me in front of my brother. She cried on cue. Come on."
My eyes burned. I tried not to cry louder because that would make her more right. I pressed my lips together and stared at the rug. The little blue stars on it went blurry.
Dad glanced back at me, just his eyes moving down. Then he looked at Vanessa again. "She's five," he said. "She's scared. You coming in hot isn't helping."
Vanessa let go of the door frame and crossed her arms. The gold hoops swung a little. "So I'm the problem? I'm trying to keep this family normal and you're hiding in her bedroom?"
I pulled my knees up. My hand was still in my pocket, holding tight. I was afraid if I took it out she would grab it. I remembered the way she'd leaned over the table downstairs, close and mad. I didn't want her close again.
Dad took one step toward the door. He didn't touch her, but he filled the doorway more so I couldn't see her at all now, just his gray shirt and his back.
"Vanessa," he said, quieter. "Leave the room. Please."
For a second nobody moved. The hall clock ticked. Downstairs a chair scraped.
"You want me to leave my own house?" she said.
"I want you to leave this room," Dad said. "Let me put my daughter to bed. We'll talk after."
Vanessa didn't answer right away. I heard her breath catch, then go flat. Her shoes shifted on the wood. Then she stepped back into the hall.
"Fine," she said. "But this isn't over."
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The door didn't close all the way. It stayed open a crack, that thin line of light again. Dad stood there a moment watching it. Then he turned back to me and crouched down.
But the moment was gone. My hand was sweating around the thing in my pocket and I didn't pull it out anymore.
