Chương 2
Desmond had been holding up a forkful of pasta.
Wren had been in the background.
He had reacted to the picture with a heart.
“What did you eat yesterday?”
Wren rubbed the edge of her cardigan between two fingers.
“Dinner.”
“What about breakfast?”
She shrugged.
“Lunch?”
Another shrug.
Julian stood too quickly and struck his hip against the marble island.
The stupid ordinary pain steadied him.
Corinne entered the kitchen.
“They’re making this into something it isn’t.”
Desmond followed several steps behind her.
He looked frightened now, as though the courage required to speak had finally sent him the bill.
Corinne saw Julian studying him.
“This is exactly what he wanted.”
Desmond frowned.
“What?”
“He has been furious with me since I took away his tablet.”
“I don’t care about my tablet.”
“You absolutely care about your tablet.”
“Corinne.”
She ignored Julian.
“And Wren has been sneaking food constantly.”
“She’s five.”
“She hides it.”
“She’s five.”
“She lies.”
Wren recoiled behind Julian’s leg.
His hand went down instinctively, and she caught two of his fingers.
Her grip was astonishingly tight.
Corinne saw it.
Something wounded crossed her face before anger covered it.
“You come home and immediately make me the monster.”
Julian looked at the pantry.
“Both of them?”
“What does that mean?”
He turned toward Desmond.
“You’ve seen the pantry locked when I’m gone?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
Desmond hesitated.
“A lot.”
“Does Mom stop Wren from eating?”
“Julian, don’t interrogate him.”
“I’m asking him.”
“You are feeding this.”
Desmond stared at the floor.
Julian waited.
Finally, the boy said, “Sometimes I give her stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Granola bars.”
“From where?”
“My backpack.”
Corinne closed her eyes.
For one second, she looked exhausted rather than furious.
Then she opened them again.
“He is deliberately disobeying me.”
Julian almost laughed.
The impulse frightened him.
He crouched beside Wren instead.
“Can I look at your cheek?”
She pressed her palm harder against it.
“No.”
“Okay.”
The answer seemed to surprise her.
“You don’t have to move your hand.”
Her fingers loosened slightly.
Julian could see more of the bruise now.
He swallowed.
“Does it hurt?”
A nod.
“Anywhere else?”
Wren looked at Corinne.
Julian followed her gaze.
Corinne’s shoulders dropped.
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
Wren flinched so violently that Julian stood.
“Don’t.”
Corinne blinked.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t speak to her right now.”
“This is my house too.”
“I know.”
“They are my children too.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to walk in after being gone for five days and decide you understand everything.”
“I haven’t decided anything.”
“That’s a lie.”
Her voice cracked on the last word.
She turned away immediately, embarrassed by it.
Desmond began tugging at his hidden shirt cuff.
Wren still held Julian’s fingers.
A refrigerator compressor clicked off, leaving the kitchen strangely quiet.
Somewhere outside, a landscaping crew started a leaf blower.
The mundane whine went on behind the windows while four people stood around a locked pantry.
Julian looked again at the padlocks.
“Where are the keys?”
Corinne folded her arms.
“No.”
He stared at her.
“No?”
“You are not going to undermine every boundary because they put on a performance the second you come home.”
Desmond’s head came up.
“It’s not a performance.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“You always say that when I tell him.”
Corinne went still.
Julian turned toward his son.
“When you tell me what?”
Desmond’s mouth tightened.
For the first time that morning, he seemed to regret speaking.
Corinne took one step toward him.
“Desmond.”
Julian lifted a hand.
She stopped.
The boy looked from his mother to his father.
“I tried before.”
Julian felt Wren’s grip tighten again.
“When?”
Desmond rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.
“When you were in Chicago.”
“That was last month.”
“I know.”
“What did you tell me?”
“I said Wren wasn’t eating.”
Julian searched through the clutter of remembered calls.
Airport lounges.
Cars.
A hotel elevator.
Desmond complaining that Wren would not eat dinner.
Julian telling him not to worry because kids went through phases.
Corinne taking the phone and saying everything was fine.
He had believed the adult.
Of course he had.
That certainty now seemed less reasonable than convenient.
“What else did you say?”
Desmond’s eyes filled, but he blinked hard and kept his voice steady.
“I said Mom gets different when you leave.”
Corinne whispered his name.
This time it sounded like a plea.
Desmond looked at her and almost stopped.
Then Wren shifted behind Julian.
The boy’s face changed.
“She locks food up.”
Julian said nothing.
“She tells Wren she has to earn meals.”
Corinne’s hand rose to her throat.
“That is not—”
“And today she said Wren couldn’t eat because she took a muffin before breakfast.”
“She stole it.”
“She was hungry.”
“She had been told to wait.”
“She was hungry.”
“Stop saying that.”
Desmond’s voice finally rose.
“She was hungry.”
Wren began crying again without making a sound.
Julian reached behind him and drew her carefully against his side.
Corinne stared at all three of them.
The defensiveness drained from her expression slowly, leaving something more frightened underneath.
Julian had seen that look once before, years earlier, when a doctor called about a test result that eventually proved harmless.
It was the face Corinne made when the future stopped obeying her.
He looked at the locks one last time.
Then he looked at his wife.
“Both of them?”
Corinne did not answer.
Julian’s voice dropped.
“Both of them are lying?”
Her lips parted.
Nothing came out.
Behind him, Wren rested her forehead against his jacket.
Desmond stood beside the pantry with his crooked tie and swallowed hard.
May you like
Julian waited, and for the first time since he had walked through the doorway, Corinne looked less like someone preparing an argument than someone discovering that the argument might no longer matter.
Corinne’s eyes moved from Julian to Desmond and then to Wren, as if one of them might offer her a way to make the room ordinary again.
