After that, Nora came over often.
Carla watched Nora one Sunday and pressed her lips together.
“She’s here a lot,” she said.
After that, Nora came over often.
“She needs somewhere safe,” I replied.
Carla touched Emily’s cheek. “And my granddaughter needs her mother’s family.”
She wasn’t looking at my daughter like a grandmother, but like a second chance.
***
One afternoon, Grant stopped me outside the grocery store.
“Emily should spend more weekends with us,” he said.
“She can visit. I have no problem with that.”
“She needs somewhere safe.”
“She needs her mother’s family. You know we need her.”
“She has her father’s home and love, Grant.”
His mouth tightened. “You’re tired, Ross. Anyone can see it.”
“Tired doesn’t mean unfit.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” he said, walking away.
“You’re tired, Ross. Anyone can see it.”
***
By October, I was too careful with Emily, and she was old enough to know it.
That Friday, she came downstairs in a blue sweater Abigail had bought her.
“Dad, don’t say no before I finish,” she said.
I looked up from the mug I was washing. “That depends on how expensive the sentence is.”
“The fall dance is tonight. Nora’s going. I want to go.”
“It’s raining, Em.”
“It’s always raining in October.”
“I’m not nervous, Emily. I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“Dad, don’t say no before I finish.”
“No. You’re trying to make sure nothing ever happens again.”
The kitchen went silent.
Nora sat there, looking like she wished she could disappear.
Emily’s voice softened. “You still look at me like I’m something else you can lose. Grandma and Grandpa would let me go.”
I should’ve stopped there.
“Grandma and Grandpa would let me go.”
Instead, I said the sentence that followed me for ten years.
“Then maybe go ask your grandparents if they know better than me.”
Emily’s face closed.
“Fine,” she said, grabbing her coat.
“Emily, wait.”
“No. You said it. I know I’m just another chore to you.”
She opened the door.
Emily’s face closed.
