Chương 5
Emma nodded.
“When Grandma said I paid her, did she say when?”
Emma chewed slowly.
“This morning.”
“Did she say she talked to me today?”
“Yes.”
“What time?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.”
“She said before you went to work.”
Daniel looked at Claire.
“I left at six forty.”
Claire nodded.
Margaret had arrived at eleven.
Emma had been home because the elementary school was closed for a teacher workday. Claire had taken a half day from her insurance office and planned to work remotely until noon, then take Emma to lunch and the public pool.
At ten thirty, Claire’s supervisor called about a client problem.
At ten forty-five, Margaret arrived unexpectedly with blueberry muffins.
At eleven, Margaret offered to keep Emma occupied while Claire handled the call.
Claire had been grateful.
That detail now tasted poisonous.
“Did Grandma bring the clippers?” Daniel asked.
Emma nodded.
“In her purse?”
“I think.”
“Did she tell you why?”
“She said she had a surprise.”
Claire gripped the edge of the counter.
A surprise.
Margaret had not become angry in the moment.
She had arrived prepared.
Daniel looked toward the hallway.
“Where’s the braid?”
Claire had left it on the console table.
She brought it into the kitchen.
Emma looked away.
“Sorry,” Claire said immediately.
“No, it’s okay.”
“It doesn’t have to be here.”
Emma looked at it again.
“Can I keep it?”
Claire had not expected that.
“Yes.”
Daniel asked gently, “Why do you want it?”
Emma shrugged.
“It’s mine.”
Claire put it into a clean freezer bag because she did not know what else to use.
She hated the plastic bag.
She hated the fluorescent urgent care room.
She hated Margaret’s handwriting.
She hated the fact that every terrible thing eventually became an object someone had to decide where to put.
Daniel was scrolling through his phone.
Claire watched him.
“What?”
“I’m checking my bank.”
“Why?”
“The money.”
Margaret’s supposed two hundred dollars.
He opened his checking account.
No withdrawal.
He checked a second account.
Nothing.
“I didn’t give her cash.”
“I know.”
“She had money in her purse and told Emma it came from me.”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked sick.
Then his expression shifted.
“What if it did?”
Claire stared at him.
“What?”
“Not today.”
He stood.
“I paid her last week.”
“For what?”
He did not answer immediately.
Claire’s stomach dropped.
“Daniel.”
“For the contractor.”
“What contractor?”
He looked toward Emma.
Claire understood.
“Em, honey, can you take your toast into the living room?”
Emma’s eyes narrowed.
“You said no whispering.”
Daniel almost smiled, but it died quickly.
“You’re right. This isn’t about anything you did.”
“Then why can’t I hear?”
“Because it’s boring grown-up money stuff.”
“That means it’s bad.”
Claire let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
“Usually.”
Emma carried her plate to the living room.
Daniel waited until the television turned on.
Then he lowered his voice.
“Mom’s porch railing is loose. She said she had someone coming to fix it and asked if I could cover part of it until next month.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred.”
Claire stared at him.
“When?”
“Last Tuesday.”
“How?”
“Cash.”
“Why cash?”
“He was supposedly coming the next morning. She said the guy gave a discount for cash.”
Claire leaned back against the counter.
“So the money she showed Emma could actually have been yours.”
Daniel nodded.
“That doesn’t mean—”
“I know what it doesn’t mean.”
He flinched.
Claire pressed her fingers against her forehead.
“Did you tell her anything about Emma’s hair?”
He did not answer.
Her hand dropped.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing like this.”
“What did you say?”
Daniel pulled out a chair but did not sit.
“Last Sunday, after dinner, you were taking Emma upstairs.”
“I remember.”
“Mom made some comment about the colored hair thing.”
Claire remembered that too.
Margaret had said, “Eight-year-olds don’t need to advertise themselves.”
Claire had replied, “It’s two washable purple strands, Margaret, not a neck tattoo.”
Daniel had laughed.
Margaret had not.
“What happened after we went upstairs?” Claire asked.
“She kept talking.”
“And?”
“I told her I thought the hair thing was silly.”
Claire stared at him.
He rushed on.
“I meant the argument. I meant all the drama over it was silly.”
“Did you say Emma was too focused on her appearance?”
Daniel looked away.
The refrigerator motor came on again.
“Oh my God.”
“I said maybe we shouldn’t make such a big deal out of hair.”
“To Margaret.”
“Yes.”
“The woman who thinks nail polish on a second grader is moral decline.”
“I know how it sounds now.”
“How did it sound then?”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Like I was trying to end a conversation.”
Claire laughed once.
There it was. The ugly laugh again.
“You ended it.”
“I didn’t tell her to shave our kid.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No, you didn’t.”
He waited.
“But you gave her exactly enough to build a lie.”
His jaw tightened.
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither is what happened in that bedroom.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
His chair scraped backward.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn this into me choosing my mother.”
“You’ve been choosing not to see your mother for years.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“It was to Emma.”
Daniel’s face hardened.
“You shaved my mother’s hair.”
The sentence struck exactly where he intended.
Claire looked at him.
He continued, quieter now.
“You held her wrist and shaved her.”
“Yes.”
“That was wrong.”
“Yes.”
He seemed startled.
Claire folded her arms.
“It was wrong.”
He sat.
“I don’t know what to do with you saying that.”
“You don’t have to do anything with it. I did it. I shouldn’t have.”
“Then why did you?”
Claire looked toward the living room.
Emma had turned the volume up.
A cartoon character was singing about vegetables.
“I wanted her to feel small,” Claire said.
Daniel said nothing.
“I wanted her to understand it for half a second. I wanted to take something from her.”
May you like
She swallowed.
“And for that moment, I didn’t care that Emma was standing there.”
