Chapter 10 - She Said She Was Only Trying to Help It Charge
The dishes were mostly cleared by then. Grandma had set the tablet on the sideboard next to the hutch, screen down on a folded napkin, like she didn't want anyone staring at it through lunch. I kept looking at it anyway.
I was stacking water glasses near the end of the long table when I heard her heels on the wood floor behind me. PERSON_A came around the table with that bright, fixed smile she used for pictures.
"You've got like ten percent left on that thing," she said. She nodded toward the tablet. "That pink case. It's about to die."
I didn't answer right away. I could see the little charging cord still coiled by the hutch where I'd left it that morning.
"I can plug it in upstairs," she said. "There's an outlet in my room that actually works. I'll bring it right back before we watch. We don't want it dying in the middle."
My hands were wet from the glasses. I wiped them on a dish towel. My ponytail had come loose a little and I pushed it back.
That morning I had propped it myself. I had angled it so it would catch the light and the empty table while I ran through my dance. I remembered pressing record and seeing the red dot. It had been recording all through lunch. That was the whole point now. Grandma had said no one touched it until we all watched together.
"No," I said. "Leave it."
She laughed a little, like I was being difficult. "I'm just trying to help. You don't want Grandma to think you let it die on purpose."
She reached past me toward the sideboard. Her fingers didn't quite touch the napkin, but they were close enough that I stepped in between her and the hutch without thinking about it.
"Don't," I said. My voice came out louder than I meant it to. "Grandma said nobody moves it."
The dining room went quiet. Two of my uncles were still at the table with coffee. I could feel them watching.
PERSON_A held up both hands. The gold necklace caught the chandelier light. "Wow. Okay. Paranoid much? I'm family. I'm not going to break your little dance video."
I didn't move. My heart was beating in my ears. I had spent the whole afternoon trying to be small and polite and prove I belonged at that table. This was different.
"Grandma," I called out, still looking at PERSON_A. "Grandma, can you come in here?"
"You're really doing this?" PERSON_A said under her breath. The smile was gone. "You're going to scream for Grandma over a charger?"
Footsteps came fast from the kitchen doorway. Grandma came in wiping her hands, her gray bun a little loose, her blue jacket still buttoned over her gray dress. She looked from me to PERSON_A to the tablet sitting untouched on the napkin.
"What is happening?" she said.
"She won't let me charge it," PERSON_A said quickly. "It's almost dead. I told her I'd take it upstairs for twenty minutes. She's acting like I'm stealing it."
Grandma didn't answer her. She looked at me.
"She tried to pick it up and take it upstairs," I said. "You said after cleanup we'd watch it together. You said nobody touches it."
Grandma walked over to the sideboard and turned the tablet over just enough to tap the side button. The screen lit up. I saw the battery icon and the little red recording light still on. She stared at it for a long second, then set it back down.
"Is that true?" she asked PERSON_A. "You were going to take it upstairs?"
"It's called being helpful," PERSON_A said. "This whole house has bad outlets. Mine works."
"We have outlets down here," Grandma said flatly. She opened the top drawer of the hutch, the one where she kept the good silver cloths and the spare keys. She took out the cloths and set them aside. "Bring me that cord."
I handed her the white cord from beside the hutch. Our fingers brushed. Hers were steady.
She plugged one end into the wall behind the hutch and connected the tablet right there on the sideboard where everyone could see it. The charging chime sounded. Then she lifted the tablet, napkin and all, and placed it inside the empty drawer and turned the little brass key that had been sitting in a vase on the hutch for as long as I could remember.
She put the key in her jacket pocket.
"Nobody charges anything upstairs," she said. "It stays locked until we sit down together. Understood?"
PERSON_A crossed her arms over her white dress. "You're treating me like a child. In front of everyone."
"I'm treating that video like it matters," Grandma said. "Because it does."
She looked at me then, and her expression softened just a fraction. Not forgiveness. Not yet. Just acknowledgment that I had called out and she had heard.
May you like
"Go finish the glasses," she told me.
I nodded and picked up the towel again. My hands were shaking, but the tablet was behind wood and brass now, still plugged in, still blinking through the crack of the drawer. PERSON_A stared at that drawer for a long time before she turned away.
