Chapter 10: The Person By The Balloons
I didn't see him stand up. I felt it.
Dad's hand had been on my shoulder since he knelt down, warm and steady, and then the weight shifted. He didn't pull away fast. He squeezed once, gentle, and let go. The wood floor creaked when he pushed himself up. I was still sitting against the wall with my knees pulled in, and from that low angle everyone looked taller than they were.
He didn't look at Mom first. He looked toward the far side of the living room where the yellow balloon had floated up against the ceiling. It had drifted toward the kitchen doorway and someone had tied its string to the back of a folding chair so it wouldn't get away. That was where the rest of the gathering was.
Aunt Tessa was over there. She was Mom's sister, in a white blouse and jeans, holding a plastic cup. She'd been laughing earlier when Grandpa Ray was talking. Now she wasn't laughing.
Dad walked over to her. He didn't raise his voice. He kept his hands where you could see them, one slightly up like he was trying to keep the whole room calm. Mom followed him with her eyes but didn't move from where she was standing with her arms crossed. Grandpa Ray stayed behind her, same spot, his hands in his pockets.
I could hear the low murmur from the other people in the house, the refrigerator humming, the balloon string ticking lightly against the chair every time the AC kicked on.
Dad stopped a couple feet from Aunt Tessa. Not too close. He asked her exactly what I'd said had happened.
"Tessa," he said, quiet enough that I had to listen hard. "Were you alone with Millie in the hallway by the bathroom for a couple minutes after she got juice?"
That was the hallway. That was where it happened. My stomach tightened because he said it out loud like it was a real place and a real time and not something I was making up in my head.
Aunt Tessa laughed a little, but it wasn't a real laugh. She looked down at her cup and then over at me, then back at Dad. Her cheeks went pink.
"Oh honey, she just ran into my hand, I didn't mean to — she moved right when I was reaching for her, it was an accident," she said. One sentence, all strung together fast.
I remembered the word accident. She'd said it right after, too. But she hadn't said it like that. She'd said it sharp.
Dad didn't nod. He didn't say it's okay. He just looked at her face for a second longer than was comfortable. I saw his jaw move a little like he was breathing through his teeth.
"You touched her face," he said. Not a question.
Aunt Tessa shrugged one shoulder. "I was trying to get her to stop being silly, you know how she gets. I barely tapped her. Kids are so dramatic."
From where I was sitting, I could see Mom shift her weight. Her arms were still crossed but her mouth had gone tight. Grandpa Ray cleared his throat behind her but didn't say anything.
Dad glanced back at me. Just a quick look. My cheek still burned and my eyes were still wet. I hadn't wiped them because I didn't want to move my hands from my knees. I knew I looked scared because I was. I hadn't been dramatic. I'd been trying not to cry loud enough for everyone to hear.
When he turned back to Aunt Tessa, his voice was even lower and even steadier.
"Millie's been sitting on the floor for ten minutes saying please don't be mad at her," he said. "She's got a mark on her cheek. She flinched when I touched her shoulder. That doesn't line up with a tap."
Aunt Tessa opened her mouth and then closed it. She looked toward Mom like she wanted help.
"She's fine," she said. "It was an accident. You're making this a big thing."
Dad didn't argue about whether it was an accident or not. He just stood there for a beat, letting the quiet do the work. The balloon string kept tapping. Someone in the kitchen set a plate down too hard and it clattered.
Then he made the choice. He didn't yell, he didn't grab anyone. He just stepped back from Aunt Tessa and said it plain.
"We're going to step out," he said. "Millie and I are going to get some air. This gathering is done for us."
Mom finally uncrossed her arms. "You're leaving? Right now, in the middle of—" She stopped and looked at the people watching from the kitchen doorway. "You can't just walk out with her like that."
"We can," Dad said. He wasn't mean about it. He was just done. "She doesn't need to be in here anymore. We need to be somewhere quiet."
Grandpa Ray took one step forward. He didn't come all the way. He just said, "Let's not make a scene."
"We're not," Dad said. "We're going outside."
He walked back to me and knelt again, same level as before. His knees popped a little. He put his hand back on my shoulder, and this time he leaned in so only I could hear him.
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"Hey, kiddo," he whispered. "You good to stand up with me? We're going to go to the porch for a minute, just you and me."
I nodded. My bows felt crooked and my sneakers were stuck to the floor like they'd gotten heavy. The yellow balloon was still tied to that chair behind Aunt Tessa, not floating free anymore. I kept looking at it while Dad helped me up, because if I looked at Aunt Tessa I thought I might start crying again.
