Chapter 2
Dad took the blue plate from my hands and placed it on my desk.
Then he closed my bedroom door.
He did it gently. I noticed because doors in our house usually closed hard when someone was angry.
“Start anywhere,” he said.
I stared at the plate.
“I don’t know how.”
“That’s okay.”
I had imagined telling him before. In those imaginary conversations, the words came out perfectly. I explained everything, Dad understood immediately, and Claire never interrupted.
With him sitting beside me, I could barely speak.
“She says I’m keeping score.”
“When?”
“When I ask why Mason gets things and I don’t.”
“What things?”
I rubbed my thumb against a loose thread on my blanket.
“My headphones. Grandma gave them to me at Christmas. Mason took them.”
Dad frowned.
“You told me they broke.”
“Claire said I shouldn’t blame him because he didn’t mean to.”
“Did they break?”
“No. He still has them.”
Dad looked toward the door, then back at me.
“What else?”
My stomach hurt.
“Sometimes she gives Lily my lunch snacks.”
“Are you getting enough lunch?”
“I have a sandwich.”
“And the rest?”
“She says Lily needs something sweet because school is harder for her.”
Dad swallowed.
“Has she stopped you from eating meals?”
“Not usually.”
He heard the word I wished I had not said.
“What does usually mean?”
“Once she said I could have dinner after I cleaned the garage. There were lots of boxes. By the time I finished, everybody had eaten.”
“What did you eat?”
“Cereal.”
He lowered his head.
I hurried to make it sound less serious.
“It was only one time.”
“You shouldn’t have had to earn dinner.”
The words surprised me.
Claire always said chores taught responsibility. I believed her. I thought I had failed at being responsible because I could not finish quickly enough.
Dad asked about school, my clothes, and whether anyone frightened me.
I told him what I could.
Every time I stopped, he waited.
Then came the thing I had never said out loud.
“She told me you were tired of hearing about Mom.”
Dad’s face changed completely.
“What?”
“When I asked to keep Mom’s picture downstairs. Claire said you needed to move on.”
He reached for my hand.
“Ethan, I am never tired of hearing about your mother.”
“She said it made you sad.”
“It does sometimes. Missing someone can make us sad. That doesn’t mean we should erase them.”
I looked at the photograph on my dresser.
Mom was kneeling beside me in a pumpkin patch. My front teeth were missing. Her hair was blowing across her mouth, and I remembered laughing because she could not get it out.
“Claire said that picture belonged upstairs.”
Dad stood, took the photograph, and placed it on my bedside table.
“You can put it wherever you want.”
There was a knock.
Claire opened the door before Dad answered.
“Are we finished making a tragedy out of cake?”
Dad rose.
“Please wait downstairs.”
She looked at me.
“What exactly has he been telling you?”
“Enough.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
“Not in front of him.”
Her smile vanished.
“So now we’re keeping secrets?”
Dad stepped toward the doorway.
“Ethan is allowed to talk to me privately.”
Claire looked past him.
“You know how he gets when he’s upset.”
I felt myself shrinking.
Dad noticed.
“Go downstairs, Claire.”
This time, she did.
He closed the door and crouched in front of me.
“You are not in trouble.”
“What if I remembered something wrong?”
“Then we can work it out. You’re still allowed to tell me.”
“What if she says I’m lying?”
“I’m going to listen carefully. I won’t ask you to compete with her for my attention.”
I began crying then.
Not loudly. I could not make myself be loud.
Dad sat beside me and held me while I tried to stop apologizing.
After a while, he took out his phone and called Aunt June.
She was Mom’s older sister. She lived fifteen minutes away and always smelled like coffee and the hand cream she kept in her car.
“Can Ethan stay with you tonight?” he asked.
I stiffened.
Dad felt it.
“This is not because you did anything wrong. I want you somewhere peaceful while I talk with Claire.”
“Will you come?”
“As soon as I can.”
He packed my pajamas and school clothes. I added Mom’s photograph.
When we came downstairs, Claire was standing by the kitchen counter. Lily sat on the stairs. Mason watched television without looking at it.
“Where are you taking him?” Claire asked.
“To June’s.”
“He needs to learn he can’t leave whenever someone corrects him.”
Dad stopped.
“Today was not a correction.”
Lily looked up.
I wanted to hug her, but Claire was watching.
Outside, Dad opened the car door.
Aunt June met us at her house with a blanket and a question.
“Chocolate or vanilla?”
I blinked.
She held up two small cakes from the grocery store.
“Your dad called ahead.”
I looked at him.
“I still owe you birthday cake,” he said.
June put twelve candles in the chocolate one. Dad lit them.
They sang just for me.
When I blew them out, I made the same wish again.
I hoped this time it would last.
Dad stayed until I was ready for bed. Before leaving, he sat beside me.
“Tomorrow we’ll talk more,” he said.
I nodded.
Then I remembered the garage.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“There’s a box on the highest shelf. Claire said it was old paperwork.”
“What box?”
“Mom’s wooden one.”
He went quiet.
May you like
“I thought you knew she put it there.”
“I didn’t.”
