She just held out her hand.
I put my left hand in hers because that wrist didn’t have a bandage.
Her fingers closed around mine.
“You can tell me,” she said.
I swallowed.
“Dad told me to stay there.”
Aunt Rachel made a small sound behind Grandma.
Dad shook his head.
“That’s not what happened.”
Grandma asked me another question.
“Why did he tell you to stay there?”
I didn’t answer right away.
Dad said my name.
Not loudly.
That was worse.
“Emma.”
Grandma squeezed my fingers.
I looked at the cake.
Dad’s name was written across it in blue icing.
HAPPY 40TH, JASON.
There were photographs taped to the wall behind it.
Dad fishing.
Dad graduating from college.
Dad holding me when I was a baby.
Dad and me at the beach.
In every picture, he was smiling.
“He said people were taking pictures,” I said.
Dad closed his eyes for half a second.
Grandma waited.
“And?”
I touched the edge of the bandage on my wrist.
“He said my face would ruin them.”
Nobody moved.
I added the other part because Grandma was still waiting.
“And these.”
I lifted my wrists a little.
“He said people would ask questions.”
Dad pointed at me.
“That’s not what I said.”
Grandma finally looked at him.
“Which part did she twist?”
Dad opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
He looked at Uncle Ben.
Then Aunt Rachel.
Then me.
“This is my birthday,” he said. “I’m not doing this in front of twenty people.”
Grandma nodded once.
“Then don’t.”
Dad seemed relieved for a second.
He reached toward me.
“Come on, Emma.”
Grandma didn’t release my hand.
“She’s staying here.”
“Mom.”
“She’s staying here.”
Dad’s face changed.
Not a lot.
Other people probably wouldn’t have noticed.
I did.
I always noticed.
His mouth got very still.
“You’re embarrassing me.”
Grandma looked behind her at the curtain.
Then at the family photographs.
Then at me.
She pulled my hand gently.
I stepped forward.
I hadn’t realized how dark it was behind the curtain until I was standing under the dining room lights.
People looked away when I looked at them.
Aunt Rachel covered her mouth.
Uncle Ben set the knife down.
Mrs. Patterson put both paper plates on the counter.
Dad looked at everybody.
“She fell earlier this week. Kids fall. Her wrists are from something completely different. This looks worse than it is.”
Grandma didn’t argue.
She bent down until her face was level with mine.
“Emma, do you want to go upstairs with your father?”
Dad stared at her.
“Don’t ask her that.”
Grandma waited.
I could hear the refrigerator running.
Someone’s phone buzzed on the table.
I looked at Dad.
“No.”
His face went red.
“Emma.”
I jumped.
I didn’t mean to.
My shoulders came up and Rosie almost slipped out of my hands.
Aunt Rachel saw it.
So did Grandma.
Dad saw them seeing it.
“See?” he said quickly. “This is exactly why I wanted her upstairs. She’s overwhelmed. Everybody standing around staring at her is scaring her.”
Grandma stood up.
“Then everybody can stop staring.”
She looked around.
People started moving again, but differently.
Nobody went back to the cake.
Uncle Ben walked toward the front door.
Aunt Rachel came closer to Grandma.
Dad noticed.
“Where are you going?”
Uncle Ben picked up his coat.
“Outside for a minute.”
Dad stared at him.
“Why?”
Uncle Ben didn’t answer.
I didn’t know then why he was going outside.
I just knew Dad didn’t like it.
Dad reached for me again.
Grandma moved me behind her.
“Mom, you’re not taking my daughter anywhere.”
Grandma’s voice stayed quiet.
“I haven’t said where I’m taking her.”
“She’s my child.”
“I know.”
That answer made Dad angrier than if she’d yelled.
He looked around again.
Most of the guests were pretending not to watch.
Nobody was pretending very well.
Then Dad’s eyes dropped.
Not to my wrists.
Not to my face.
To Rosie.
He stared at the doll.
And for the first time that whole night, Dad looked scared.
He Wanted Rosie
Dad had seen Rosie before.
He had seen me carrying her behind the curtain.
He had seen her when he brought me a glass of water.
He had even told me to stop picking at her torn dress.
He hadn’t cared about her.
Now he did.
“Give me the doll.”
