by Vivian Lux
"Here," Piper said, shifting forward so that her feet were flat on the floor. "Sit up a little more. Like that, yeah. Straight spine. Like someone's lifting you up by the top of the head."
Rory looked concerned. "Like a puppet?"
A ghost of a smile flickered over Piper's lips. "A little like that, sure. Now, elbows at your sides, don't let them flap all over."
"Like a bird?"
This time there was a definitely smile. "Right, you're not a bird. You're a pianist."
Rory couldn't help herself. She whipped around to make sure I was watching. "Look Daddy! I'm a pianist!"
"You sure look like one," I told her. "Now try actually playing it next."
Roar stuck out her tongue. I moved around to the side, more anxious than I wanted to let on. This stubborn little girl going up against this stubborn woman. This could be... very bad.
"Have you ever held a tennis ball?" Piper asked my daughter, curling her fingers as if she was holding an invisible one in her hand.
"We threw them for my friend Gretchen's Golden Retriever." She wrinkled her nose. "They were really slobbery."
Piper laughed. "Okay well pretend you're holding one in your hand, like this. And it's dry, not slobbery."
Rory curled her fingers and regarded Piper skeptically. But Piper was watching her with an odd expression on her face.
"That's perfect," she said softly. "Gentle like that. Now turn them down, that's how your fingers are going to play. Not all flat so you end up banging on the keys." She demonstrated, striking discordantly on the keyboard. Rory jumped.
"See, you hold your tennis ball, and press the keys. Not hit. Your fingers bounce up, feel that? Feel how if you let it, the key lifts your finger for you?" The shocked look of delight told me Rory felt exactly that. "That's how you play the piano. We can get into reading music soon enough. But right now just practice making your fingers nice and bouncy, okay? Yes, you're doing beautifully, nice work."
As I watched Piper with my daughter, I realized this was the most I'd heard her speak since I'd known her, but I still wanted more.
Chapter Seventeen
Piper
After only fifteen minutes, Rory was confidently working her way up and down the C scale, shooting delighted looks over her shoulder at True every time she completed one. "That's good, baby girl," he kept saying encouragingly, his eyes fixed on her. "That's real good.
I found myself looking at Rory, so proud and thriving under her father's love. Then I found myself looking back to True. Over and over, my gaze bounced from her, to him, to her, to him again.
She was loved. He loved her so much and I didn't know why, but seeing that love was almost painful. Not that I would resent her, of course. A child should be loved. A child should be watched and cared for and adored.
What would I have become if I had a love like that? Maybe my father would have believed me. Maybe my mother would have been watching that day, keeping her eye on me instead of getting wrapped up in whatever adult stuff was going on that took her attention off her little girl and let her be led away by a monster disguised as a family member? How different would I be now?
It was the kind of question that used to drive me crazy, always in the forefront of my mind. But now it was more like a dull ache inside of me. Like a piece of glass had wormed its way into the thick skin on the bottom of my foot and a hard callous had formed around it. I'd never be aware of it being there, until one day I'd hit it the wrong way, putting my weight in the wrong place. Then the stabbing ache would remind me of what would always be there inside of me.
That pain.
I had to look away.
"Okay," I said, working hard to keep my voice level. "I think that's good." I reached out and gently pushed Rory's hands from the keys. She looked at me, stricken, and I immediately started backpedaling. "You don't want to overload yourself honey, not too much at first okay? You need to practice, every day, let the lessons sink in until you no longer have to think about them, 'til they're just part of who you are. That's how you make music your own, okay? You go into it not all at once but little by little, every day."
Her face screwed up an obstinate scowl that I recognized from her father. But whatever she was about to say in protest was drowned out by a long, low rumble that came from her stomach.
"Oh," Rory said, looking down at her stomach. "Sorry. That was loud."
"I guess it has gone way past dinnertime," True said, standing up. "We can get out of your hair."
No. I'm not ready. "And drive all the way back home again?" I sneered, trying to sound light and unaffected by the idea of him leaving now, leaving already. "You heard the girl's stomach, she's hungry now."
"Yeah Daddy, I'm hungry now," Rory repeated, grabbing my hand.
True looked down at his daughter and then back up to me and I could tell he was thinking about how she was holding my hand, but I had no idea what he was actually thinking. "Well, it all depends on what Miss Piper says."
I cleared my throat. "Yeah, we can make some dinner." I looked down at Rory. "You want to have dinner here, Roar?"
She looked delighted that I used her nickname. "Yeah," she said, nodding enthusiastically.
"Okay, you can play the piano a bit more," I said. She got this devilish gleam in her eye that alarmed me. "Softly," I reminded her. "Play. Don't bang."
She nodded, slightly abashed, and sat back down to stroke her fingers lovingly over the keys. Soon enough, the stutter-stop of beginning scales started over again.
"Follow me," I told True. He'd been watching me, looking for all the world like he'd found something that'd been lost for a long time.
I looked down at my feet for a moment, feeling something similar. Though in my case, I didn't even know it had been lost until now.
I walked into my kitchen with True following behind me. Then I stopped and turned in a slow, confused circle.
It was fairly evident that this was the least used room in my house. And based on True's face, he could tell immediately. "You're ah, not much into cooking, huh?" he said.
I had to shrug. "There's not a lot of food in the house, no. I don't cook that much."
"That's okay."
"But we can order tacos!" I suggested brightly.
"I'm sure there's something," True said, walking over and opening my fridge and peering inside. "How old are these eggs?"
I have eggs? "No idea."
"Well, when did you buy them?"
"I didn't. My brother brought them by."
"What was the expiration date?"
"Expiration date?"
He turned and looked at me with an odd look on his face, then very deliberately turned the carton around. Heat flashed in my cheeks as I realized that this was something basic that I should have known, but no one ever bothered to teach me. In the turmoil of growing up in my family, sometimes the basics just got overlooked.
"See this right here?" he said, tapping a date stamped on the underside of the carton. "This tells you when you need to use them by. Didn't anyone ever tell you that?"
I twisted my fingers around each other. "No."
True set the eggs on the counter. He lifted his hand towards my face. I winced reflexively, but I didn't move away once his fingers brushed my cheek.
That was surprising. For both of us.
"Things haven't been good for you, have they?" he said softly. His voice was so gentle, it was confusing.
"No," I heard myself say. "Not for a while."
"Don't worry," he said, so softly I found myself leaning forward, straining to hear him. "It's all okay, right now."
I felt like my limbs were liquefying. I sagged back against the counter. He held my gaze for a moment.
Then he turned around and started banging his way through my kitchen until he found a pan. He threw it on the burner to warm, then quickly cracked six eggs into a bowl and start whisking them together with a fork. The whisking made his forearm muscles seem like they were dancing and I had no ide
a why my throat felt dry so suddenly. I was almost sad when he poured the beaten eggs into the pan.
Two practiced flips and then he dumped it out on a plate and cut it in half. "More?" he asked.
"That's good enough," I said. I wasn't sure I could handle watching him for much longer.
True called Rory in and gave her the half, then quickly threw together three more eggs into an omelet for himself. He looked up at me and his grin was a lopsided little secret. "Eat it before it gets cold," he instructed me. "Don't worry about being polite."
Polite was the furthest thing from my mind. So I bent to my plate and gathered up a forkful.
They were the most delicious eggs I'd ever tasted. Omelettes, made in my own house, by a man who had no problems taking care of me.
Rory plopped her little butt on the stool right next to me. She was amped up to eleven, telling us stories about the kids in her class, most of whom seemed to have a penchant for falling down on their butts." We laughed, and I could feel True watching me each time his daughter made me laugh. There was no hiding from his eyes.
And I wasn't sure that I wanted to.
"You girls go play again," he said when we were finished. "I'll clean up."
"You sure?" I asked. "You made dinner." I had a vague notion of this kind of sharing being what people did. I must have read it in a book somewhere.
He gave me a withering look. "It's literally one pan. And you have this fancy-dancy dishwasher thing too. I've always wanted to use one of those."
"You don't have a dishwasher?"
He held up his hands. "You're looking at them."
I didn't think I'd even used my dishwasher yet. "Fine, knock yourself out," I said
"Do you have Netflix?" Rory called, bouncing into the living room in front of me.
"Yes I do."
"Can we watch a movie?"
I handed her the remote and let her flick through the menu as I sat down. She turned the volume up on some Disney show while True banged around in the kitchen, and I realized there was more noise in this house than there had ever been before, and I liked it.
Rory came bouncing over to the couch and flopped down next to me, leaning her whole bodyweight into my side. I tightened up, bracing myself against the couch to hold her little body up. Tentatively, I reached up to stroke her hair. "I like your hair, Rory," I said.
"Thank you," she said politely, her eyes fixed on the screen.
I stroked her hair, my fingers combing through the silky strands. I haven't touched anyone like this, for as long as I could remember. No friends, no girlfriends, no one.
"Do you like your hair in braids?" I asked.
"Yeah," she muttered, her voice sounding sleepy. "But Daddy can't do them," she yawned.
I shifted backwards in the seat. "I know how to French braid," I told her, moving so we could both be more comfortable. "You want me to braid your hair?"
She sat up so excited she almost socked me in the nose with her skull. "Yeah, can you? Can you please?"
I patted my lap. "Lie back down again," I said, raking my fingers through her hair.
She settled into my lap, and I leaned forward, brushing the hair back from her temple and her sweet little face. My heart thumped with adrenaline, every fiber of my body screaming on high alert. This quiet moment -- with this little girl falling asleep in my lap while her father cleaned up in my kitchen -- was more dangerous than anything I'd ever done before.
Chapter Eighteen
True
I pressed each button on the dishwasher in turn, until I finally found the one that made the machine go whoosh.
"That's right, motherfucker," I muttered in triumph.
I turned in a slow circle. The kitchen was completely spotless now, nothing left to clean up. I'd been stalling, giving my daughter time to get to know Piper without me watching over her. It seemed important that Rory liked her.
It seemed important that Piper like me.
I stood there for a second, listening. Over the sounds of cleanup, I had heard some talking and giggles, but right now everything was silent. I turned and went to the doorway and stopped short.
The picture that was framed there in front of me took my breath away. Rory lay with her head in Piper's lap, her eyes drooping, her thumb dangerously close to her mouth. And Piper's face was serene with concentration as she bent over, brushing her fingers through Rory's hair, weaving it into a French braid.
"She's always wanted French braids," I said softly, leaning in the doorway. Piper looked up at me, but her fingers still worked. "I can't do them at all," I said wiggling my fingers. "You'd think I'd be able to, what with the guitar playing and the auto repair and stuff, but I just can't make them happen for the life of me." I chuckled ruefully. "I thought maybe Lizzy might be able to, what with her being a girl and all, but she was never one to really bother with frilly things."
Piper looked down as Rory exhaled that little hitching breath she always let out when she finally relaxed enough to fall asleep. "I love doing braids," Piper said softly, her voice musing. "I used to braid my brother's hair. It was long when we were little, like mine, because my mom was too busy to bother with going to two different haircut places. And he used to let me, right up until we were six. Then I had to stop because he didn't want to be mistaken for a girl anymore. Ever since then I've never had anyone to do this to." She looked down at Rory again and a fond smile flickered across her lips. She deftly tucked the last strands up underneath neatly.
"She's gonna wake up so happy," I said, going to her side and settling in next to her.
Piper sort of froze in mid-lean, holding herself, careful not to let any parts of our bodies touch.
I slung my arm along the back of the couch and held perfectly still.
Back when I was a kid, a deer came wandering through our backyard. It froze when it saw me. I froze too, and we both stood there frozen, staring at each other. Until I figured out that if I moved slowly... gently... deliberately... so as not to startle it, I could get closer, closer and closer to it. Until I was close enough to see each individual lash above its wide, liquid brown eyes.
Piper looked straight ahead, but as I sat there I could feel her relaxing by degrees.
First it was only her body heat that caressed my skin.
Then I felt the brush of her sweater tickling the hairs on my arm.
Then, finally, with a sigh, she leaned all the way into me and pressed the full length of her body against my side. Her dark hair brushed my arm, and I could look down and see the long slant of her nose with that perfect upturned point at the end.
I leaned forward and gave into the urge I'd had since the moment I met her. When I finally kissed her, lightly brushing my lips across the tip of her nose, I let out a sigh of relief. Then I looked to see if she was okay.
The corner of her mouth turned up in a slight smile. I kissed that corner too. She bit her lip, drawing it against her teeth so that it shone white and then brilliantly red. A pulse beat in my temple, and the throbbing rhythm echoed through my whole body.
I looked down at my daughter. "I think I ought to put her to bed," I said pointedly.
Piper looked down and then off to the side. "She can stay," she murmured.
I brushed Piper's hair away from her neck, tucking the strand behind her ear. Then I kissed her softly along the jaw. "She should go to bed," I said, a little more firmly. Without saying anything else, I got up and cradled Roar in my arms. She snuffled a little in objection, but wrapped her arms around my neck and rested her head on my shoulder.
"Which way?" I asked.
"Last door on the left," Piper said. She was sitting up very straight and tall.
I found the guest bedroom already made up, if a little dusty. I dropped Roar gently onto the pillow in the center of a gigantic bed. She looked so little there. It seemed to almost swallow her up.
She let out a sniffly little moan, and then buried her face in the pillow. I tucked the covers up around her and kissed h
er on the forehead.
When I came back into the living room, Piper was standing. She caught my eyes and then turned, and I followed her down the hall into a separate wing. I barely noticed the beautiful, modern, and -- I'm sure -- really fucking tasteful furnishings. I only had eyes for the bed in the center of the room... and the woman who stood awkwardly in front of it.
I went to her, like a moth drawn to a flame and smoothed my hands down her waist, pressing my body against hers. Her eyes darted back and forth and I could feel the rapid heartbeat under her skin, as panicked as a rabbit caught in a snare.
Something finally clicked inside of my thick, thick skull.
I stepped back. "You don't like being touched, do you?"
She looked up in my eyes and shook her head almost imperceptibly.
In a flash, it all made sense, and as she cast her eyes back down, leaving them in shadowed shame, I was filled with murderous rage so hot I had to step away and take a deep breath. "Who hurt you?" I asked.
The look of shame on her face made me want to retch. She opened her mouth but I held up my hand.
"No," I said slowly. "I know. I've been around enough shitty families to recognize that look. You don't have to tell me anything, Piper. But I'm going to tell you something, okay?" I wanted so badly to kiss her again and keep kissing her until she believed me. "I will never hurt you."
She shifted on her feet. I reached out and took her hand and pressed it to my chest. "All you gotta do is tell me, okay? Tell me you don't like something, tell me to back off, hell if I'm dense you can yell at me and throw things. I don't give a shit, just make sure I know. I can be kind of oblivious sometimes but I'm never gonna make things worse. I only hope I can make them a little better."
She lifted her chin and suddenly her eyes blazed with fierce pride. "Are you gonna be my savior again?"
"Not trying to save anything here. I'm just saying I get it."
"You just think you do, but you don't."
"You don't have to believe me, you just have to listen. You don't owe me anything."