Paintings.
Taped to the boards.
Rows of them.
I counted.
Fourteen.
One for every day.
Every single one was me.
Me at the kitchen table.
Me in the garden.
Me asleep on the couch with Scout.
Me standing in a doorway.
That one stopped my heart.
A woman in a doorway.
Just standing there.
Not going in.
“That’s you now,” Ruby said.
“Scout told me.”
She said it like it was obvious.
Like dogs tell little girls things all the time.
Maybe they do.
She looked past me at the door.
Jason stood there.
Meredith beside him.
Neither of them moved.
“Are you mad at Daddy?” Ruby whispered.
I kissed her forehead.
Right next to the bruise.
“Stay right here, baby,” I said.
“Keep painting.”
“I need to talk to Daddy and Aunt Mer outside.”
“Are you leaving?”
“No.”
“Never again.”
“I’ll be right outside that door.”
I walked out.
I shut the door behind me.
I looked at the two of them.
My husband.
His sister.
The man who told me not to look.
The doctor who told me she was gone.
I didn’t scream.
I didn’t hit anyone.
I wanted to.
Instead I spoke very quietly.
“You buried an empty box.”
Meredith closed her eyes.
“Walt sealed it himself,” she said.
“There was nothing in it.”
“You let me stand next to it.”
“Yes.”
“You let me put my hand on it.”
“Yes.”
“You let me pick out a dress for her.”
Meredith’s chin trembled.
“The dress is in Walt’s office,” she said.
“He couldn’t put it in an empty box.”
“He said it felt like a lie inside a lie.”
I laughed.
It came out ugly.
“Fifteen days,” I said.
“For fifteen days I’ve been deciding every morning whether to keep breathing.”
“Tell me why.”
“Tell me right now.”
“Or I take her home and call the police.”
“And you can explain it to them.”
Jason stepped forward.
He was walking fine.
A little stiff, maybe.
“The leg,” I said.
“Was that a lie too?”
“The fibula’s cracked,” Meredith said.
“It’s not weight-bearing.”
“He can walk on it.”
