Chương 7
“My mom?”
“She may receive information through the case.”
Emily looked toward Haron. “Will he hear it?”
“Only if you agree or if a court later requires certain information to be shared.”
“What if he gets mad?”
Dana glanced at Haron. “Your father is responsible for his own anger.”
Haron wanted to say he would not get angry at her.
He knew that was not exactly what she feared.
Emily agreed to go.
That evening, Haron bought groceries with a credit card already close to its limit. He purchased cereal Emily had liked at eight, yogurt she no longer ate, three kinds of fruit, chicken breasts, frozen waffles, and a bag of baby carrots because responsible refrigerators in television commercials always seemed to contain baby carrots.
At checkout, Emily removed two items.
“You don’t like grapes?” he asked.
“They’re eight dollars.”
“I can buy grapes.”
“You looked at the price twice.”
“I look at prices.”
“You put back your coffee.”
“I have coffee.”
“You have the burned kind from the police station.”
The cashier pretended not to hear.
Haron put the grapes back in the cart and added his coffee.
Emily added a canister of turtle food.
“We don’t have Cal yet,” he said.
“We will.”
There was more certainty in her voice than he had heard all day.
The police allowed Leah to retrieve the turtle under supervision.
She arrived at Haron’s apartment after dark carrying a small glass tank covered with a bath towel. Cal, a palm-sized painted turtle, clawed against the plastic dock while the water sloshed from side to side.
Leah also brought Emily’s backpack, two pairs of pajamas, school clothes, and a white trash bag filled with items she had chosen too quickly: one winter glove, a dance shoe from three years earlier, a box of colored pencils, and a swimsuit.
Emily looked inside the bag.
“Where’s my green hoodie?”
“I couldn’t find it.”
“It was on the chair.”
“There were officers everywhere.”
“Where’s my charger?”
“I brought one.”
“It’s not the right kind.”
“I’ll get another.”
Emily lifted the dance shoe. “Why did you bring this?”
Leah pressed her lips together.
Haron took the turtle tank from her. “Set the bag down.”
“I can carry it.”
“You’re holding it like it’s trash.”
Leah let go.
The bag dropped harder than either expected. The colored pencils burst from their box and rolled across the floor.
Cal scratched frantically against the side of the tank.
Everyone bent to pick up pencils except Emily.
She stood in the middle of the kitchen and watched her parents scramble.
“I called you,” she said.
Leah froze with a red pencil in her hand.
“When?”
“Before he came upstairs. I called, and then I called again.”
“My phone was in the bedroom.”
“You always take it to the basement.”
“I didn’t that night.”
“Why?”
“The washer flooded. I was tired.”
“You heard me yell.”
Leah sat back on her heels.
Haron did not move.
Emily’s voice stayed level. “The recording has you talking.”
Leah looked at Haron, then away.
“I came to the stairs,” she said.
“You said, ‘Richard, let go.’”
“I didn’t know what he was doing.”
“You knew he was holding me.”
“I thought you were fighting over the phone.”
“We were.”
“Emily, you have to understand, there was water everywhere, and he told me you had taken money, and you’ve been so angry lately—”
Emily’s face shut down.
Haron rose.
“Stop.”
Leah stood too. “I am explaining.”
“You are explaining her into it.”
“I’m not.”
“You did it before the police even got there.”
Leah’s eyes flashed. “You don’t know what it’s been like in that house.”
“Then tell us.”
She looked at Emily.
Haron saw the calculation: what could be admitted without destroying what remained.
Leah put the red pencil on the counter.
“Richard has been under pressure,” she said. “His firm lost two contracts. We’re behind on the mortgage. He’s been drinking more.”
Emily stared at her.
“That is not an answer,” Haron said.
“I’m trying.”
“No, you’re arranging the furniture.”
Leah turned on him. “And you’re enjoying this.”
The accusation struck because part of him had been.
Not what happened to Emily. Never that. But the collapse of Richard’s authority, the confirmation that Haron had not imagined every warning sign, the sight of Leah standing inside the consequences of choices she had defended for years—some bitter portion of him had welcomed it.
Emily looked between them.
Haron bent and picked up the last pencil.
“Leave,” he said to Leah.
“I came to see my daughter.”
“She doesn’t need to watch us do this.”
Leah’s mouth tightened. “You mean she doesn’t need to watch you win.”
Emily stepped backward.
Haron saw it and lowered his voice.
“This is not winning.”
Leah looked at the mark on Emily’s wrist.
Something moved in her face and disappeared.
She picked up her coat.
At the door, Emily said, “Mom.”
Leah turned too quickly.
“Did you believe him?”
Leah held the coat against her chest.
“I didn’t know what to believe.”
Emily nodded once.
After Leah left, she carried Cal’s tank into the bedroom and closed the door.
Haron slept on the couch. At two in the morning, he woke to the sound of water.
He found Emily crouched beside the turtle tank with a plastic cup. The tank had leaked onto the floor through a crack near one corner.
“He did this,” she said.
“Richard?”
“He dropped it last month. He said it was fine.”
Haron brought towels.
Together they transferred Cal into a mixing bowl. The turtle paddled against yellow ceramic decorated with painted lemons.
“He looks stupid,” Emily said.
“He looks Mediterranean.”
She laughed, then covered her mouth as though the sound had escaped without permission.
Haron sat on the floor beside her.
“We can buy a new tank tomorrow,” he said.
“With what money?”
He stared at the wet towels.
“You don’t have to think about that.”
“You do.”
“Yes.”
May you like
“So somebody has to.”
He leaned his head against the wall. “You’re eleven.”
