Part 1: The Empty Chair Beside Him
My mother’s voice cut across the table. “Stop rewarding the theatrics, Daniel.”
They all expected me to give in, to apologize, scoop Emma up, and set her in that chair myself.
None of them knew that the tattered fox clutched against her chest had already captured a voice we were never meant to hear.
It was Thanksgiving, in my mother’s spotless dining room in Elmhurst. White candles stood between the gold-rimmed plates she brought out only twice a year. A football game murmured from the den. My brother Kevin and his wife Rachel were already seated, and they watched Emma walk in as though she had come to spoil their evening.
Roland Vance sat at the head of the table, in the chair that used to be my father’s.
He was my mother’s wealthy new husband, and not Emma’s grandfather, however many times Diane used the word. He wore a heavy gold watch, spoke to waiters as if they were on his payroll, and smiled with no warmth in it whenever anyone pushed back.
The moment we stepped through the door, Emma’s hand clamped around mine.
Roland threw his arms wide. “There’s our little princess. Don’t I get a hug?”
She ducked behind my leg and squeezed the worn orange fox tighter.
For half a second, his smile went flat and hard.
Then he chuckled. “Still raising her to be rude, huh, Daniel?”
Kevin became deeply interested in his water glass. Rachel smoothed a napkin that didn’t need smoothing. My mother gave me the look I had known my whole life, the one that said keeping Roland happy mattered more than anything I might have to say.
I should have taken my daughter’s coat off the hook and driven us home right then.
Instead, I told myself we only had to get through one dinner.
When the turkey arrived, my mother tapped the empty chair beside Roland.
“Emma, you sit here,” she said. “Grandpa Roland’s got a special story for you after we eat.”
Roland patted the seat cushion. Then he patted his knee.
“Come on, sweet pea. I don’t bite.”
Emma stopped dead.
The color drained from her face. Her fingers knotted into my sleeve, and her eyes darted from the chair to his hand to the dark hallway behind him.
I crouched to her level. “What’s wrong, bug?”
She pressed her mouth right against my ear.
“Daddy… if I sit down, my private part will hurt.”
