The engine stopped. The door opened.
Dad stepped out into the storm in his expensive suit.
Then he saw me.
He froze.
Across the yard he stared at the soaked girl curled on his porch like a stray animal. His briefcase slipped from his hand.
Behind me, the deadbolt clicked.
The door flew open.
“Oh my god! Emily!”
Melissa rushed outside holding a fluffy towel, her voice suddenly panicked.
“Mark! Thank goodness you’re home! She ran outside during a tantrum—I didn’t realize until I heard the wind!”
She wrapped the towel around my shoulders while digging her nails into my collarbone where Dad couldn’t see.
My father ignored her.
He ran straight to me and dropped to his knees in the rain.
“Emily, look at me,” he said urgently.
My teeth chattered too hard to speak.
“Mark, she’s freezing,” Melissa said anxiously.
“Shut up, Melissa.”
The words cracked through the storm.
In three years of marriage, I had never heard him raise his voice at her.
Dad wrapped his suit jacket around me and carried me inside.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered.
Inside the warmth burned my frozen skin. My fingers tingled painfully as circulation returned.
Dad sat me on a stool in the kitchen.
Then he noticed the broken plate.
The room went silent.
Melissa stepped forward sadly. “I didn’t want you to see that today. I know tomorrow is hard for you.”
Tomorrow was the anniversary of my mom’s death.
Dad sighed. “What happened?”
Melissa answered immediately.
“She smashed it. She was angry.”
“That’s not true!” I croaked. “It slipped!”
“Let Melissa finish,” Dad said.
My stomach dropped.
“She screamed at me,” Melissa continued softly. “Then she ran outside.”
“Dad, she dragged me!” I shouted.
Melissa laughed lightly. “Mark, do you really believe that?”
Dad looked at my scalp.
“It’s red,” he said slowly. “But you were outside.”
He didn’t believe me.
Melissa gently placed a hand on his arm. “She’s grieving.”
“How could I lock the deadbolt from outside?” I cried.
Dad hesitated.
“She has a point.”
For a moment Melissa’s face tightened—but she recovered.
“I locked it because she ran out screaming. I was scared.”
Dad sighed heavily.
“Enough. Go take a shower, Emily.”
“What about her?”
“Go to your room.”
Upstairs, the hot water burned my skin.
Through the vents I heard them arguing quietly.
“You can’t let her talk to me like that,” Melissa said.
“I know,” Dad replied. “She’s struggling with the anniversary.”
Later he came upstairs.