Page 34 of Dream House
“That weren’t good manners, Mama,” Maisy tacks on.
“Those. Thoseweren’t good manners,” Stella corrects with a huff. She looks at her daughter for a good three seconds and then sighs. “But you’re right. I wasn’t using my manners. I’m sorry.”
I notice she says this more to Maisy than to me, but that’s okay. I see what she's about. She can keep her apology. And her room.
But then she holds up her hand to me as though she’s making a pledge. “Iamsorry.” And this time it sounds like she might mean it. “Would you excuse us for just a moment, please?”
Before I can answer, she grabs her friend Pen by the arm and drags her toward the front of the house.
“Don’t move,” Pen calls back to me.
I’d rather not stick around, but they’re blocking the path toward the front door. Maybe the kid knows another way out.
When I glance at her, I find her staring at me with those brown bug eyes.
“Mama doesn’t like boys,” she says. Then shrugs. “Except Uncle Tyler.”
I wonder ifUncleTyler is really her uncle or—
“And Nunu,” she adds, breaking into an adorable grin.
I can’t help myself. “Who’s Nunu?” My money’s on a cat.
She turns her attention back to her coloring. “He’s in my class.”
“You have a classmate namedNunu?”
“Mmm hmmm.”
“Nunu.” I mutter, marveling. “And I thought Lark was bad.”
“His real name is Newton.”
“That’s not much better.”
She peeks back up at me, and I recognize the disapproving look she gave her mother. “My Nanna said it’s not nice to make fun of somefin’ if somebody can’t change what it is.” She wipes her nose and waits for a response. Those big eyes make me feel a little guilty for saying anything against Nunu, a.k.a, Newton.
“You’re right,” I say with a nod. “You’re Nanna sounds smart.”
Maisy bunches her lips and lowers her gaze. “Yeah, but she died.”
“Oh… I’m sorry.”
The kid doesn’t say anything. Instead she turns back to her drawing, but I notice bright spots of color on each cheek. I sure hope she doesn’t start crying. That would be hard to explain.
“Pen says Nanna’s in heaven, but Mama says no one knows what happens after we die.”
I almost choke.
Wow. That’s some harsh reality to lay on a kid her age. I can’t imagine Maggie and Bear saying that to Grayson. Of course, they never would since they’d never question resurrection.
The kid keeps coloring like she didn’t just gloss over the most defining mystery of human existence.
“Uncle T says that when he hurt his head, it wasaaaaaallllblack,” she babbles, stretching out her arms as she draws out the word. “Like in hide-and-seek when you go to the closet under the stairs.”
Out of nowhere, I hear Dad telling me that in the moments after the blast in the salt mine, everything was just darkness. Darkness and terror.
She looks back up to me like she knows she’s lost my attention, so I nod, ignoring the echo of unease in my gut.
