Chapter 3 - The Things They Hid
Vanessa followed me across the street.
“Can we talk privately?”
“We can talk after they eat.”
Caleb sat with both hands around his plate. He was eating too fast, barely chewing.
“Slow down, buddy.”
He looked up, startled.
“Am I eating too much?”
“No.”
The word came out hard enough to make him flinch.
I softened my voice.
“No, son. There’s plenty.”
Cora quietly brought another dish.
Vanessa stood behind Sofia’s chair.
“You’re embarrassing me.”
Our daughter stopped lifting her spoon.
I saw it happen. Her shoulders climbed. Her chin dropped. Her whole body prepared to become smaller.
“Go home, Vanessa.”
“They’re my children too.”
“Then let them finish dinner.”
She stared at me, waiting for the man who used to smooth things over.
That man didn’t show up.
She walked away.
Cora sat across from me only after Vanessa was inside our gate.
“How long?” I asked.
“Not every night.”
“How long, Cora?”
“Several months.”
I closed my eyes.
“I tried your number. The old one.”
“I changed it last year.”
“I asked Vanessa for the new one. She said you were working nights and couldn’t be bothered.”
I looked at Sofia.
“Why didn’t you tell me on our calls?”
She pressed her spoon into the rice.
“Mama sat behind the phone.”
“And?”
“She said if we complained, you’d get distracted at work.”
Caleb whispered, “She said you could fall.”
I stared at him.
“Fall?”
“Off the buildings.”
I worked maintenance on commercial properties. Vanessa had taken the children’s fear of losing me and used it to keep them quiet.
Sofia began crying without making a sound.
“I was going to tell you. I kept trying.”
I moved beside her.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But I said we were okay.”
“You were trying to stay safe.”
Cora looked away and wiped her eyes.
Later, I took the children home to pack. Vanessa had locked herself in our bedroom.
I opened the refrigerator.
Water. Condiments. Half a lemon.
In the freezer sat an unopened box of expensive desserts.
Caleb reached under his mattress and pulled out a bread roll wrapped in tissue.
He tucked it into his backpack.
“You don’t need to save that,” I said.
He held it tighter.
“What if there isn’t breakfast?”
I sat on the bed beside him until I could trust my voice.
“There will be.”
Sofia stood in the doorway.
“Papa, there’s something else.”
She glanced toward her mother’s locked room.
“Uncle Marco came here with people.”
May you like
“What people?”
“They measured our bedrooms.”
