Chương 6
Julian sat on the edge of the coffee table.
“Dr. Patel is going to look at your cheek.”
Wren pressed her hand against it.
“She doesn’t have to touch it if it hurts too much.”
“She always touches everything.”
“She’s a doctor.”
“That’s what doctors do.”
Wren considered this with the grave irritation of a child being confronted with an unfair profession.
Julian waited.
“Can Des come?”
“If you want him to.”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Corinne turned from the windows.
“I’m coming too.”
Wren immediately looked down.
Julian saw it.
So did Corinne.
The silence between them was unbearable.
Corinne’s shoulders sagged.
“I’m her mother.”
Julian stood.
“No one said you aren’t.”
“You’re acting like I need permission to go with my own daughter.”
“I’m acting like she needs to feel safe.”
“She is safe.”
Wren’s fingers curled into the hem of her dress.
Corinne saw that too.
Her face tightened, then emptied.
“All right.”
The answer came so quietly Julian almost missed it.
He watched her walk back toward the kitchen.
She stopped beside the dropped spoon.
For a moment, she merely stared at it.
Then she picked it up and placed it carefully beside the plate.
The domestic neatness of the gesture unsettled Julian more than another argument would have.
Desmond returned carrying Wren’s mustard-colored coat and his own backpack.
“You don’t need your backpack.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you have it?”
Desmond shrugged.
Julian recognized the habit.
Whenever Desmond was nervous, he packed things.
Sleepovers, thunderstorms, hospital visits when his grandfather had been dying.
The boy liked the feeling of having supplies.
“What’s in there?”
“Stuff.”
“Useful stuff?”
“Maybe.”
Julian let it go.
Wren stood.
She moved carefully at first, as though expecting someone to object.
Desmond helped her into the coat.
Corinne remained near the dining table.
“Can I say goodbye to her?”
Julian looked at Wren.
Wren looked at Corinne.
Nobody answered for her.
Corinne seemed to understand.
She crouched several feet away.
“Wren?”
The girl’s shoulders rose.
“I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Julian felt his jaw tighten.
Corinne continued.
“I should not have hit you.”
Wren stared at the floor.
“I was angry, and I did something wrong.”
No excuse followed.
Julian waited for one anyway.
None came.
Corinne’s voice trembled.
“You did not deserve that.”
Wren looked up briefly.
Corinne swallowed.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me right now.”
The phrasing sounded more adult than anything Wren could reasonably process.
But Wren listened.
Corinne pressed her palms together.
“I’m going to stay here while Dad takes you to Dr. Patel.”
Wren nodded.
Corinne’s face crumpled for a second.
She recovered quickly.
“Okay.”
Wren reached for Julian’s hand.
He took it.
Desmond walked on her other side.
At the front door, Julian glanced back.
Corinne had not moved.
She stood alone in the dining room, framed by warm daylight and the polished surfaces she had spent years choosing.
The locked pantry was visible behind her.
Julian almost said something.
He could not find anything that was both true and useful.
He left.
The air outside was colder than it had looked through the windows.
Wren blinked at the brightness.
Julian opened the rear door of the SUV.
Desmond climbed in beside her without being asked.
Their school bags still sat in the mudroom.
Julian had not even considered school.
He buckled Wren into her booster seat.
She looked at him.
“Is Mom mad?”
Julian paused with one hand on the seat belt.
“I don’t know.”
“At me?”
“No.”
“You don’t know.”
“That part I know.”
Wren watched his face.
He wondered how often adults gave children certainty they had not earned.
“Mom is responsible for what Mom did.”
Wren frowned.
“She said I stole.”
“Did you take food from the kitchen?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“Were you told not to?”
“Yes.”
Julian nodded.
“Taking something after someone says no can be wrong.”
Her face fell.
He continued.
“That still does not make it okay for someone to hit you.”
Wren looked confused.
Julian knew why.
Two truths were harder than one.
Adults preferred simple villains and simple innocence too.
Wren whispered, “Even if I was bad?”
Julian felt something tear open inside his chest.
“You can do something wrong and still not deserve to be hurt.”
She looked down at her lap.
Desmond stared out the opposite window.
Julian closed the door gently.
He stood beside the SUV for a moment before walking around to the driver’s seat.
His hands were shaking now.
He flexed them once against the steering wheel.
Desmond noticed.
“You okay?”
Julian started the engine.
“No.”
Desmond seemed surprised by the answer.
Julian glanced at him in the mirror.
“But I can drive.”
The boy nodded solemnly.
That was enough for now.
As they pulled away, Julian saw Corinne through the front window.
She had moved closer to the glass.
Wren saw her too.
She did not wave.
Corinne lifted one hand anyway.
The car turned at the end of the drive.
The house disappeared behind trees.
For three blocks, no one spoke.
Wren eventually asked whether Dr. Patel had fish in the waiting room.
“I think so.”
“The orange one bites the blue one.”
Desmond said, “It doesn’t bite him.”
“It does.”
“They’re kissing.”
Wren gave him a disgusted look.
“Fish don’t kiss.”
“They might.”
“No.”
“You don’t know everything about fish.”
“You don’t either.”
Julian listened to them argue about fish while driving toward a pediatric office where someone might ask whether his children were safe in their own home.
The ordinary sound of their voices nearly undid him.
He gripped the steering wheel and concentrated on the traffic light ahead.
At the next intersection, his phone rang through the car speakers.
Corinne’s name appeared on the dashboard.
Desmond stopped talking.
Wren stared at the screen.
Julian let it ring twice.
Then he answered.
“Yes?”
Corinne’s breathing was audible before her voice.
“I found something.”
Julian’s stomach tightened.
May you like
“What?”
There was a rustle, then the faint sound of metal.
