Chapter 9 - The Walk Back Past the Service Station
The air in the stairwell had been cool and close. The ballroom air hit different when we came back down. Warmer. Heavier with perfume and butter and chandelier heat. The string quartet was playing something low under the talk, and for a second I thought we could slip in along the edge without anyone turning.
Marcelo kept his hand at my back, above the shawl I'd pulled tight around my shoulders. My gown hung wrong now. I felt it in every step. The lace that had stretched smooth over the shape all night pooled a little at my waist. I kept tugging the shawl forward.
We came in near the service station by the east wall. Maya was there with her tray set down on the stand, polishing a water spot off a glass with a white cloth. Lily stood right beside her, close enough that her navy sleeve brushed Maya's gray skirt. When Lily saw me, her whole face lifted.
I got down as fast as I could in the dress. The carpet pressed into my knees.
"Mommy," she said.
Maya stepped back half a step to give us room, but she didn't go far. She kept her body angled between us and the nearest tables, like she'd been standing guard the whole time we'd been gone.
Marcelo crouched too, on Lily's other side. He put one hand on the back of her dress, light. His jaw was tight, but his voice when he spoke to her was even.
"You stayed with Maya?" he said. "Good. Thank you."
Maya nodded. "She did great," she said quietly. "Didn't wander."
A woman at the closest round table glanced over and then looked again. I saw her eyes drop to my middle and catch. She leaned to her husband and whispered something behind her program. He didn't look right away, then he did. That was how it moved across the room. Not a gasp. Just eyes dropping and lifting, mouths pausing mid-sentence.
My face went hot under the chandelier glow. I pulled the shawl tighter and focused on Lily's bows. One had gone crooked. I fixed it with fingers that shook.
"Can we get some water?" Marcelo said to Maya, low. It wasn't really about water.
"Yes, sir," Maya said. She poured from a pitcher with her eyes steady on us, not on the staring tables. She set a glass down where I could reach it without standing. "Take your time," she added, softer.
Lily watched me drink. Then she leaned in, her curls brushing my cheek. Her voice was so small I almost missed it under the music.
"I'm sorry I told," she whispered.
The glass stopped halfway to the stand. I set it down carefully so I wouldn't spill.
Around us the ballroom kept moving. A server lifted a silver dome off a tray two tables over with a soft clink. Someone laughed too loud near the bar. But in our little corner by the service station, it felt very still.
I looked at her directly. Her brown eyes were wide and wet, trying to read my face the way she'd read it upstairs when I'd asked her to wait.
"No, baby," I said. I kept my voice low and steady. "You don't be sorry for that."
She frowned. "But you cried."
Marcelo's hand tightened a fraction on her back. I felt his eyes on me.
"I know," I said. "That wasn't because you did something wrong. You told the truth. That's always right. Even when grown-ups make it complicated."
Lily studied me for a long second. Then she nodded once, serious, and tucked herself against my shoulder. The navy fabric of her dress was warm from the room. I breathed in the faint shampoo smell in her hair and held her.
Maya shifted beside us. She picked up her tray again, empty now except for the covered dome. She didn't stare at my waist the way the guests did. She just looked at Lily, then at me, with something plain and kind in her face.
"She was worried about you," Maya said. "She kept asking when you were coming back."
"Thank you for staying with her," I said. My throat felt raw. "Really."
"Of course," she said.
Marcelo stood first and offered me his hand. I took it and rose, pulling Lily up with me. My knees ached from the carpet. The shawl slipped, and I caught it.
Across the room, near the stage steps, the emcee was checking his cards with the foundation director. The director glanced toward us. Stage call was coming. I could feel it in the way the staff were starting to clear the aisles.
Marcelo looked at me. "We stay on the edge," he said quietly. "Together. Until they call us."
May you like
I nodded. I took Lily's hand in mine, and Marcelo's hand settled again at my back, and the three of us moved a few feet out from the service station to where the cream wall curved toward the curtains. The whispers followed, but Maya stayed at her post behind us, her tray held level, her presence solid.
Lily swung our joined hands once, lightly. She wasn't hiding anymore.
