Chapter 2
Dad made breakfast the next morning.
He burned the first piece of toast and dropped an egg on the floor. Usually, Grandma made breakfast while Dad rushed out with coffee in a travel cup.
Today, he stayed.
I stood in the kitchen doorway, unsure where to go.
“Your seat’s here,” he said, pointing to the chair beside him at the big table.
I sat down. Grandma was at the counter, slicing an orange with short, sharp movements.
Nobody mentioned the night before.
When Dad asked me if I wanted jam, I looked at Grandma first. Dad noticed.
“You can answer me, Maya.”
“Yes, please.”
He passed the jar.
Grandma set her knife down. “I haven’t told her she can’t have jam.”
Dad spread some on my toast. “She should be able to ask without being afraid.”
“I made sure she had dinner every night,” Grandma said.
“I know she had dinner. I saw where you made her eat it.”
She turned away.
Aunt Celia came in with Paige, who was still half asleep. Paige slid into her usual chair. She stared at me beside Dad, then smiled.
“Want the other half of my orange?”
I nodded. She put it on my plate.
Dad stayed until Aunt Celia left to drive us to school. Before I got in the car, he crouched beside me.
“I’m going to speak to your teacher today,” he said. “And I’ll be home for dinner.”
“Do you have to tell my teacher?”
“I want her to know you’ve had a hard time at home. She can help if you need to talk.”
I didn’t want anyone at school to know about the corner. I also wanted to tell somebody what it had felt like.
“Will she tell the class?”
“No.”
At school, I kept thinking about Grandma alone in the house. I had seen her angry with Dad before. I had never seen him refuse to back down.
At lunch, I sat beside my friend Tessa. She asked why I kept looking at the doorway.
“I’m checking whether my dad’s here.”
“Does he come to lunch?”
“No.”
“Then why would he be here?”
I had no answer.
My teacher, Ms. Reed, asked me to stay for a minute after class. She pulled up a chair so we were sitting at the same height.
“Your dad called,” she said. “He said you might be worried about going home.”
I studied my shoes.
“Has anyone at home told you that you aren’t allowed to sit with your family?”
I nodded.
“I’m sorry that happened. You can talk to me whenever you need to.”
I asked if she could make Dad come home on time.
“I can’t control his work,” she said. “I can help you tell him what you need.”
I had told Dad what I needed the night before. I hoped he had heard me.
After school, Aunt Celia drove Paige and me home. Grandma opened the door. She greeted Paige and then looked at me.
“Shoes by the mat, Maya.”
I put them there.
The small table was gone from the dining room.
For one wild second, I thought Grandma had thrown it away. Then I saw it in the hallway, folded against the wall.
At dinner, Dad arrived before the food was served. He had changed his schedule, he told me, so he could come home earlier for the rest of the week.
I sat beside him. Grandma barely spoke.
The next evening, he was late by twenty minutes.
I found Grandma standing near the folded table. When she saw me looking at it, she said, “Your father won’t always be here to move chairs for you.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“He said I can sit with everyone.”
“I heard him.”
She walked into the kitchen before I could ask what she meant.
Dad came home a few minutes later. I sat at the big table, but I couldn’t eat much. He asked if I felt sick. I shook my head.
At bedtime, I told him what Grandma had said.
He sat on the edge of my bed. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Will she make me sit there when you go back to work?”
“No. I’ve already told her she won’t.”
“She didn’t sound like she agreed.”
Dad was quiet. He glanced toward my door, as if the answer might be waiting in the hall.
“You’re right,” he said. “I need to do more than tell her.”
He called Aunt Celia into the living room after I went upstairs. I sat on the top step, listening.
“I can pick the girls up from school,” Aunt Celia said. “But Mom will still be here.”
“I know.”
“She’s furious with you.”
“That doesn’t change what she did.”
Aunt Celia lowered her voice. I caught only a few words: “not just dinner” and “Paige saw.”
I moved closer to the railing.
Dad asked, “What else?”
There was a long pause.
Then Paige appeared behind me in her pajamas.
“You shouldn’t listen,” she whispered.
“What did you see?” I whispered back.
Paige looked frightened.
“Grandma put your school picture away.”
I had noticed that the photograph of me and Dad was missing from the living room shelf. Grandma had said she was dusting.
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know. I saw her take it down when you asked to sit with us.”
Downstairs, Dad raised his voice.
“How long have you known she’s been doing this?”
May you like
Paige took my hand and led me back toward our rooms. I wanted to stay and hear the answer.
I also knew I might have to see Grandma at breakfast.
