I turn my face and bury my head in his chest.
If this is a perfect family, then I hope that before it’s too late, that we start to fracture and fray. I hope that the symmetry of perfection becomes so damaged that he’ll finally understand what he’s done to me.
To my mother.
To her brothers.
To himself.
Dinner is predominantly quiet and stoic. We’re all seated at the table and I’m helping Cleo with her plate under Dad’s disapproving watch. I haven’t forgotten that he told me that I get to spend a night with her alone, and after all I’ve endured today—mentally, as well as physically—I think he knows that he’ll be spending tonight alone in his bed.
I hate that he looks at her with such disdain, I hate that he won’t even give her a chance. She’s a beautiful little girl, inside and out, but he just can’t see past the imperfections from years of fucking the same branch on the family tree.
“Momma?”
I smile down at Cleo when she says my name and reach for the cloth napkin in her lap. She’s gotten quite a bit of food on her face, and she’s always so worried that she’ll make more of a mess of herself trying to clean up. She worries more than she should about a lot of things her age, which is why I don’t want them to ever know the truth about this family.
Richter would become angry and lash out.
Skylar would more than likely try to run away and tell someone.
And my darling Cleo.
She wouldn’t understand and wonder if she did something wrong.
“Cleo,” Dad begins conversationally. “Did you still want to have that sleep over with your Momma?”
“Yes, please,” she replies excitedly.
Dad’s eyes wander toward me slowly, a smile creasing his lips, and I can feel my heart start pounding rapidly.
He’s up to something.
“I think I’ll join you,” he finally says, a wide grin on his face as he turns his attention back toward her. Cleo looks proud—I feel sick. She probably thinks she’s finally won her father’s affections, but I’m worried about which affections those happen to be.
Do you think it would be a bad idea if the next time we were together, we had the girl watch us? His question comes crashing back down over me with hurricane force winds and I have to bite my lip to keep from outright crying.
“We’re almost out of food,” I blurt out. I don’t know if that’s entirely true, but I know that it will buy us some time. Dad never lets us run out of necessities and he hasn’t been to town in a while. I know he’ll believe me without bothering to double check. If I’m wrong, I’ll get punished, if I’m right, I’ll have a chance to figure out how to save the children.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asks giving me a puzzled look. “I’m gonna be out almost all damn night now trying to find a twenty-four-hour grocery store, Darbs.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
He rolls his eyes as he pushes his chair back and gets to his feet. Dad leaves the dining room without a word, and I look at each of the children in turn. Do I tell them? Do I let them know the hell that I’ve endured to keep them safe?
No, I tell myself, letting out a heavy sigh. That wouldn’t be fair to them; it’s not their fault that their father is so irrevocably broken.
And if I really want to be honest with myself then I have to concede the fact that it’s not his fault either.
* * *
“Darby!” Dad calls out as he makes his way toward the front door.
I smile at my children, run a hand over Cleo’s hair, and tell them to finish their supper.
“Yes?” I ask when I join him in the foyer.
“I’ll try not to be gone for too long,” he says, jingling his truck keys in his hand thoughtfully, “but there’s something I want you to know.”