Chương 5
“I did not think she was literally going to shave her head.”
“Did you tell her not to?”
Silence.
I waited.
“Daniel.”
“I thought she was venting.”
“Did you tell her not to?”
“No.”
The word came quietly.
For the first time, he sounded tired instead of angry.
I sat on the edge of Rachel’s patio chair.
“Why did you say good?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not enough.”
“I was annoyed.”
“With Emma?”
“With everything.”
He exhaled.
“I was trying to finish an email.
Mom was complaining.
Emma was taking forever.
I said something stupid.”
“Did Emma hear you?”
“I didn’t know she was listening.”
“That doesn’t change what she heard.”
“I know.”
It was the first time he had said those words since the pediatrician’s office without attaching a defense.
For one second, I could almost see the man I had married.
Then he said, “But you need to understand my mother too.”
The door inside me closed again.
“No.”
“Melissa.”
“No.
I actually don’t.”
“She thought she was helping.”
“She held Emma’s arms.”
Daniel said nothing.
“She blocked the bathroom door.”
Still nothing.
“She told her people would think she was lying if she made a big deal.”
“That’s not what Mom says happened.”
I looked through the glass door.
Emma sat at the table while Rachel showed her how to balance a spoon on the rim of a cup.
“Who do you believe?”
Daniel’s answer took too long.
“I think there are three upset people remembering one morning differently.”
My hand went cold around the phone.
“One of those people is an eight-year-old with clipper marks on her scalp.”
“I didn’t say I don’t believe her.”
“You just found a longer way to say it.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make me choose between my mother and my daughter.”
I stood.
“You already did.”
He went silent.
This time I did not wait for him to fill it.
“I’ll ask Emma whether she wants to talk to you on the phone.”
“I want to see her.”
“Not tonight.”
“You don’t get to decide everything.”
“No.
But I get to decide whether I hand a frightened child over in the middle of an active CPS report when she’s asking not to go home.”
His voice sharpened.
“So now you’re using CPS against me?”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Melissa, if you do this—”
I ended the call.
When I returned to the kitchen, Emma was balancing the spoon successfully.
She looked pleased for about three seconds.
Then she saw my face.
“Was Dad mad?”
“He wants to see you.”
Her spoon fell into the cup.
“Do I have to?”
“No.”
That night she slept in Rachel’s bed beside me.
At two in the morning, I woke because she was touching my hair.
Not pulling it.
Just running two fingers carefully along one strand where it lay across the pillow.
When she noticed my eyes were open, she jerked her hand away.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
She stared at the ceiling.
“Does it hurt when they cut hair?”
“Usually no.”
“Mine did.”
I turned onto my side.
“The clippers pulled?”
She shook her head.
“Grandma did.”
Then she whispered, “When I moved.”
I did not sleep again.
At eight thirteen the next morning, Marisol Vega called.
She told me she had spoken with Daniel.
Then she paused.
“There is something I need to ask you before I meet with Emma.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Your husband says this is not the first time his mother has cut your daughter’s hair without your permission.”
For a moment I thought Marisol had misspoken.
“What do you mean?”
“He reported that his mother cut Emma’s hair once before, when she was six.”
I sat up in Rachel’s bed.
Emma was still asleep beside me, curled toward the wall with the blue cap on the nightstand.
“What did he say happened?”
“He said there was an incident involving gum.”
I closed my eyes.
The gum.
Two summers ago, Emma had come home from Patricia’s with her hair cut unevenly at the shoulders.
Patricia had said Emma fell asleep with gum in it and she had no choice but to cut out the tangled section.
I had been furious that she had done it without calling me.
Daniel had told me there was nothing to be done once gum got twisted through hair.
Emma had cried because she had been growing it past her shoulders.
Patricia took her to a salon two days later and paid to even it out.
I had let the matter die.
“Emma had gum in her hair,” I said.
“That’s what I was told.”
Marisol’s pause lasted just long enough to make my chest tighten.
“What were you told?”
“That’s what I’m trying to clarify.”
I got out of bed and carried the phone into the hallway.
Rachel’s house was quiet except for the refrigerator humming downstairs.
“Daniel told you something different?”
“He said his mother cut Emma’s hair because Emma had been chewing gum after being told not to.”
“That’s not different.”
“It may be.”
I leaned against the wall.
Marisol continued carefully.
“According to your husband, his mother told him afterward that she had warned Emma that if she kept chewing gum in bed and got it in her hair again, she would cut the hair shorter.”
“Again?”
“That was his wording.”
My mouth went dry.
“The story I heard was that the gum got in her hair accidentally and Patricia had to cut it out.”
“I understand.”
“Did Daniel say she cut more than she needed to?”
“He said he did not see the hair before it was cut.”
I looked toward the bedroom.
Emma had not moved.
“Why would he tell you this now?”
“I asked about previous discipline involving hair.”
Of course.
The question had been direct enough that he could not pretend the old incident had never happened.
“What else did he say?”
May you like
“I’d rather not influence what you remember or what Emma may say.”
That answer irritated me even though I understood it.
