Chapter 11 - The Recording On The Counter
The second glass was still on the counter where Claire had left it, the orange juice sitting perfectly still and opaque, a faint skin forming on the surface from sitting in the warm kitchen air. Sophie was in the living room just beyond the doorway, perched on the edge of the couch with her knees pulled up, close enough to hear but not in Claire's direct line of sight. I could see her pink pajamas in my peripheral vision.
I slipped my right hand into the pocket of my dark blazer where my phone was. My fingers found the side button and the screen without looking. I'd opened Voice Memos before Claire came back from the bedroom, left it on the new recording screen. One press and the red bar started. I felt the small vibration against my palm and kept my hand there, the fabric muffling any sound.
Claire was leaning against the white cabinets, her hands flat on the counter on either side of the second glass, her smile still fixed in that same calm line.
"Can I ask you something?" I said, and I kept my voice low and even, the way you talk when you don't want a kid to start crying. "Sophie said after she had a sip of that juice yesterday, she felt really strange. She said it was awful. Do you know why that would have happened?"
Her eyes didn't leave my face. She tilted her head just a little, like she was considering whether the question was serious.
"She's sensitive," she said. "You know how she is. She gets an upset stomach if she has anything with a lot of citrus. She's always been like that."
I didn't move my hand from my pocket. The phone was recording, the mic pointed up through the thin lining of the blazer.
"It wasn't just her stomach though," I said. "She said she felt strange. Dizzy. Like she couldn't keep her eyes open."
Claire reached for the glass and nudged it a half inch toward me. The liquid didn't slosh, it was that thick.
"It's just vitamins," she said. "I added a vitamin mix for health. Orange juice with vitamins, that's all it is. It's very good for your health. You should drink it. You'll feel better if you drink it."
It was the exact same phrasing she'd used that morning, the same soft coaxing tone. From the living room, I heard Sophie shift on the couch cushions. She was listening.
"I hear you," I said. "I just want to be careful, since she had that reaction."
Claire's smile thinned at the corners but didn't drop. "You're overthinking this, Daniel. It's juice. Drink it, it's very good for your health."
I nodded once, slowly, and pulled my hand out of my pocket just enough to brush the counter. I needed her to hear me do the next part clearly, for the recording.
"I'm going to put both glasses in the fridge for now," I said, loud enough that the phone would pick it up in the pocket. "It's eleven forty-two AM on Saturday, October eighteenth. I'm bagging the first glass from this morning and the second glass you just poured. Both have orange juice that has not been touched. I'm sealing them so nothing spills. They are going on the top shelf of the fridge."
I had the two gallon-sized zip bags already open on the island, the ones I'd taken from the drawer while she was in the bathroom. I didn't look at Claire while I did it. I lifted the first bagged glass from where I'd hidden it behind the cereal boxes, then picked up the second glass by its base, careful not to touch the rim or the liquid. My hands were steady but I could feel my pulse in my fingertips.
Claire watched, her hands now crossed over her white top, the gray cardigan pulling tight at her shoulders.
"Why are you putting juice in bags?" she asked.
"So it doesn't spill," I said. "And so I can keep track of them. If Sophie did have a reaction, I want to be able to show someone what was in them."
I slid each glass into its own bag and pressed the seals closed, the plastic crinkling loudly in the quiet kitchen. I said it again for the audio, my voice flat. "Both glasses bagged, sealed, intact." Then I opened the fridge, moved the milk and the leftover containers aside, and set both bagged glasses on the top shelf, pushed back against the wall where Sophie couldn't reach them. The cold air hit my face. I closed the door and stood with my hand on the handle for a second longer than I needed to.
Claire hadn't moved. "You're being strange," she said quietly.
"Maybe," I said. "I just want to keep things clear."
From the doorway, Sophie's voice came small. "Dad?"
I turned. She was standing now, holding the arm of the couch.
"Did you hear what Claire said about the juice?" I asked her, keeping it gentle. I wanted her words on the recording too, but more than that I wanted her to know she was allowed to say it out loud.
She nodded, her long light brown hair falling forward. "She said it's vitamins. And that you should drink it because it's good for you."
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I looked back at Claire, then back at Sophie, and felt the weight of the phone still recording in my pocket. The two glasses were behind the closed fridge door, sealed and cold and accounted for, and the audio was running, capturing the exact words Claire kept repeating. We weren't alone in the kitchen anymore — Sophie's hearing it meant it wasn't just my word against hers.
"Okay, sweetie," I said. "Stay right there for me, alright?"
