Chapter 3: Why Doesn't She Have Dinner
I heard Vanessa's shoes before I saw her. The hard click on the wood floor from the hallway, quick and sharp. Dad was still holding the tablet with both hands, the blue light on his face, and my hand was still fisted in his suit jacket. I didn't let go.
She came into the dining room doorway by the white paneled doors and stopped. She was wearing her house clothes, a gray sweater and black leggings, her hair pulled back. She looked at Dad, at the tablet, at me, at Caleb still sitting at the table with his fork hovering over his plate. Her mouth made a tight line.
"What's going on?" she said. Her voice was sweet at first, the way she did when Dad was home. Then she saw the tablet up close and her eyes narrowed.
Dad didn't answer right away. He took a slow breath. I felt his chest rise under my hand. He turned the tablet just enough so the screen wasn't facing her anymore, and he kept one hand over it like he was protecting it.
Vanessa's eyes flicked to me. "Amara, let go of your father."
I pressed closer to his leg. Caleb looked down at his plate, then back up at Dad.
Dad finally spoke. His voice was low and even. He looked straight at Vanessa. "Why doesn't she have dinner?"
Vanessa laughed a little, a short sound that didn't match her face. "What are you talking about? Of course she has dinner. Marcus, what did she tell you?"
Her tone shifted. She stepped closer to the dark wood table, her hand resting on the back of one of the cream chairs. She didn't look at me when she talked about me.
"She stole food after I told her no," she said. "That's what this is about. I told her she couldn't have a roll before dinner and she took one anyway. She does this when you're at work, she sneaks food and then lies about it. She needs discipline or she'll keep doing it. Caleb saw it."
Caleb's shoulders pulled up. He didn't say yes or no. He just stared at his mashed potatoes. I remembered the way Vanessa had watched me that afternoon, how she had stood by the pantry and said nothing is for you until I say so.
Dad's brow furrowed, but his voice stayed quiet. He didn't raise it. He looked down at the tablet for a second, then back at her.
"I saw the pantry," he said. "On the video." His pause was small but it filled the whole room. "You locked it."
The words hung there. Vanessa's hand tightened on the chair. The warm light from the lamp on the side made a soft glow on the table, on the bread roll still sitting on the plate, on the glass of water no one had touched.
"That is not what happened," she said quickly. "She's four, Marcus. She doesn't know what she's recording. She pointed that thing at me and made up a story. You're going to believe a tablet over me? I've been here every day taking care of them while you're at the office."
She said it like I wasn't there, like I was just a story she was correcting. Dad didn't look away from her. I could feel his breathing again, slow and controlled. He shifted his weight and his hand found the top of my head for a second and rested there. That small weight made my chest loosen enough to speak.
"Don't leave," I whispered to him. It was all I could get out. My voice was thin and my cheeks were still wet. "Can I stay with you?"
I wasn't talking to Vanessa. I was looking up at Dad's tie with the little white dots, at the white pocket square in his jacket. He nodded once, just a tiny movement, and his fingers curled a little more protectively around the tablet.
Caleb was watching both of them. His eyes moved from Dad to Vanessa and back to Dad. He held his fork tight like he didn't know whether to put it down or keep holding it. He didn't speak but I saw his jaw move like he wanted to. He looked at me then, quick, and I knew he knew I wasn't lying. He had seen the lock too.
Vanessa saw that look. Her face changed. The sweetness was gone completely.
"So that's it," she said. Her voice was louder now, but not shouting. It was sharp. "You're turning them against me. I cook, I clean, I watch them all day, and you come home in your suit and decide I'm the problem because she recorded ten seconds of me telling her no?"
Dad didn't argue that part. He took a step back, bringing me with him, away from the table. He kept his voice calm, almost too calm.
"We're going to eat dinner," he said. "Proper dinner. Tonight. Together. You two will eat."
Vanessa stared at him for a long second. She didn't reach for the tablet again. She let go of the chair and stepped back toward the hallway that led to the bedroom. Her clicks on the wood were faster this time.
"Fine," she said over her shoulder. "You handle it then. See how they act when you let them do whatever they want."
The bedroom door down the hall closed with a soft but firm click. Not a slam. A closed door that meant she was done talking.
The dining room felt different right after. The warm light was still there, the dark wood table was still there, the blue glow of the tablet was still there in Dad's hands. But the air was quiet in a different way. Caleb finally set his fork down. Dad knelt a little so he was closer to my height, his suit jacket pulling at his shoulders, and he looked at me and then at Caleb.
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"We're staying right here at this table," he said quietly to us. "You will have dinner. I promise you that."
I kept holding his jacket.
