Why Did Mom Say We're All Done While Phones Filmed Me Soaked In The Ballroom...

I could hear Mom breathing under my ear. Hard and fast, like she'd run up stairs. Her navy sleeve was damp where my cheek pressed into it and her arm was locked around my back so tight my shoulder blades ached.

The marble was cold through my wet dress. Water kept dripping off my hair onto her skirt and onto the floor. I tried to hold still so it wouldn't spread.

That was when I saw his shoes.

Black and shiny, coming straight across the floor toward us. Not fast like Mom had run. Steady. The way he walked when he was mad and didn't want anyone to know he was mad.

I didn't have to look up to know it was Richard. I knew his tuxedo. Black jacket, black shirt, bow tie. He'd fixed it in the mirror that morning while I sat on the edge of the tub with my feet in the water to stay out of the way.

Mom shifted me a little to her side. Not behind her. Next to her. Her hand moved to my shoulder and pressed down.

"Look at me," she whispered. So low I almost didn't hear it.

I tried. My eyes kept sliding to the lights.

Behind Richard, more phones went up. I saw the little white circles first, then the faces under them. A woman in a red dress held hers sideways with both hands. A man near the wood doors lifted his high over the crowd. The flashlights made spots on the chandelier and on the floor around Richard's shoes. Every time someone moved, the light moved with him.

He stopped maybe six feet from us. Close enough that I could see the crease between his eyebrows. His hands were down at his sides, fists half-closed. His shoulders were squared like he was trying to take up the whole middle of the room.

For a second nobody said anything. I could hear the chandelier humming a little and someone's heel clicking when they stepped back to get a better angle. My hair dripped onto my collarbone and I shivered.

Mom didn't step back.

Richard looked at her, then down at me for half a second, then back at her. His jaw moved. He didn't look at the phones. He acted like they weren't there, but his voice got louder so they'd have to hear it.

"This is family business."

He said it tense, flat, to Mom. Not to me. Like I wasn't standing there soaked in my light blue dress with water in my shoes.

Mom's fingers tightened on my shoulder. I felt her inhale once through her nose. She didn't answer right away. The lights stayed on us. I could see dust moving in them over the marble.

I wanted to say sorry again. The word was right there in my throat. I'd already said it twice into her dress and she hadn't told me to stop, but now with Richard standing there I wasn't sure who I was supposed to say it to. My stomach twisted and I pressed closer to her side.

Richard took another step. Just one. His shoe made a sharp sound on the floor and stopped. Now his shadow reached us. I could smell his cologne, the same one from the car.

He stared at Mom like he was waiting for her to nod. Like if she nodded he'd put his hand on my other shoulder and we'd walk off together toward the doors and the phones would go down and it would be private again.

Mom planted her feet. I felt it through her arm. She didn't nod. She didn't look at the guests. She kept her eyes on him and kept me pinned to her side.