Chương 5
She hung up.
Ethan remained at the kitchen counter with the phone against his ear.
Outside, Lily and the neighbor girl had switched colors.
The sun was green now.
At noon Rachel finally called.
Ethan answered on the first ring.
“Where are you?”
“At my apartment.”
“Are you alone?”
Silence.
“Rachel?”
“Yes.”
“Is Dad there?”
“No.”
“Mom?”
“No.”
He went into his office and shut the door, then opened it again.
The click of the latch had suddenly become unbearable.
“What happened yesterday?”
Rachel breathed into the phone.
For several seconds she said nothing.
“Rachel.”
“I gave Lily the bracelet.”
“I know.”
“She liked it.”
“I know.”
“Jesus, Ethan, can you not do that?”
“Do what?”
“Answer everything like you’re taking a deposition.”
He rubbed his eyes.
“Fine.”
“I clasped it on her. It wasn’t tight.”
“What happened after?”
“Dad had been drinking.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were with him.”
“I wasn’t counting.”
“Rachel.”
“Stop saying my name like that.”
Ethan pressed his thumb against the edge of his desk.
“Tell me about Lily.”
Rachel went quiet again.
Then she said, “Dad and I argued.”
“About what?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It mattered enough that Lily got involved.”
“It wasn’t about her.”
“What did she see?”
Rachel’s breathing changed.
Ethan heard a cabinet close somewhere on her end.
“I told him I was selling the condo.”
Ethan frowned.
“What condo?”
“The one he owns half of.”
“I thought it was yours.”
“It is. Mostly.”
“What does mostly mean?”
“He helped with the down payment.”
“That was twelve years ago.”
“Right.”
“And?”
“He thinks that means he gets an opinion.”
“About you selling it?”
“About everything.”
Rachel gave a laugh with no humor in it.
“You really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“Nothing.”
The word was not an accusation.
That made it worse.
“What happened?”
“I told him I accepted an offer.”
“And he got angry.”
“He said I was ungrateful.”
“That sounds like Dad.”
“He grabbed my arm.”
Ethan looked at the cuff he had seen her pull down.
“The bruise.”
“Yes.”
“Lily saw.”
“Yes.”
From the patio came the scrape of chalk across concrete.
Rachel continued.
“She told him to let go of me.”
Ethan shut his eyes.
Of course she had.
Lily corrected strangers who cut in line.
She once informed a six-foot-four soccer coach that he was being “kind of bossy” because he asked the children to stop chasing butterflies.
“What did Dad do?”
“He let go.”
Ethan waited.
“Then Lily said she was going to tell you.”
Rachel’s voice became thin.
“He told her I was fine. She said I wasn’t. He told her not to be disrespectful. She started crying.”
“And then?”
“I told him to leave her alone.”
“And then?”
“Ethan.”
“What did he do?”
Rachel whispered, “He took her upstairs.”
Ethan’s hand closed around the edge of the desk.
“You watched him?”
“I followed them.”
“Did he carry her?”
“No.”
“Did he grab her?”
“Her wrist.”
The bracelet.
Ethan looked down at his empty palm.
“She pulled away,” Rachel said. “The bracelet caught. I think it broke then. She dropped her shoe on the stairs.”
“You think?”
“I was yelling.”
“At Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Did Mom hear?”
Rachel laughed again.
This time it sounded close to crying.
“Mom hears everything.”
“What did she do?”
“Asked us not to ruin the party.”
Ethan stood.
He walked to the window.
Across the yard, the girls were now trying to draw a cat large enough to stand inside.
“Dad put Lily in the study.”
“Yes.”
“And locked the door.”
“Yes.”
“You saw him lock it?”
Rachel did not answer.
“Rachel.”
“Yes.”
The word entered Ethan quietly.
That was somehow worse than shouting.
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“You left her there?”
“No.”
“You knew she was in there.”
“I was outside the door.”
“You told her nobody would believe her.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
Rachel made a sound that could have been a breath or a sob.
“Because that’s what Mom used to tell me.”
Ethan stopped moving.
For several seconds there was only the low hum of his air conditioner.
“What?”
“When Dad put me in there.”
Ethan sat down.
The chair seemed too far beneath him.
“You’re telling me Dad used to lock you in his study.”
“It wasn’t a study then. It was the spare room.”
“When?”
Rachel was quiet.
“When we were kids.”
“How often?”
“I don’t know.”
“How often, Rachel?”
“I don’t know.”
Her voice broke with anger.
“I was a child. I didn’t keep a spreadsheet.”
Ethan said nothing.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am.”
“No, you want numbers so you can decide if it was bad enough.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“It’s exactly what you’re doing.”
He stood again because sitting felt impossible.
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Rachel went silent.
Then, very softly:
“I did.”
Ethan’s mouth went dry.
“When?”
“More than once.”
“I would remember that.”
“You remembered what you were allowed to remember.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“You were the easy one.”
Ethan flinched.
Rachel continued before he could respond.
“You played baseball with Dad. You went to hardware stores with him. You knew when to shut up. I didn’t.”
“This isn’t about who behaved better.”
“I know that now.”
“Rachel—”
“When I told you he locked me in, you said I probably deserved it.”
The room disappeared around him.
“No.”
“You were thirteen.”
“No.”
“You said, ‘What did you do this time?’”
Ethan stared at the door.
A memory came not as a picture but as embarrassment.
Rachel crying in the upstairs hallway.
Her hair stuck to her face.
His baseball glove under his arm.
His irritation because Dad was waiting in the car.
What did you do this time?
Ethan leaned against the desk.
“I was a kid.”
“So was I.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
The question hurt because he did not know how to answer it.
Outside, Lily called for him.
May you like
“Dad!”
He opened the office door.
