Semua Bab The Divorce Countdown: Tears in the Closet: Bab 1 - Bab 10

The next day was Saturday.I dressed by myself early and went downstairs.Nora Mercer was already awake in the living room.She was wiping dust from the coffee table with a cloth.Mom carried breakfast from the kitchen, saw her, and quickly took the cloth away. "Nora, you're our guest. You don't need to do chores. Wash your hands and get ready to eat.""Mrs. Johnston, I'm used to helping at home. Children should help adults." Nora bowed properly and spoke in a soft voice.Mom turned toward me as I reached the bottom of the stairs.I stood there, curling my toes inside my slippers.I wanted to help too, but I did not even know where the cleaning cloths were kept."Lily, come eat." Dad walked out of the study and pulled out a chair.Breakfast was fried eggs and toast.Nora sat perfectly straight and took tiny bites of toast without dropping a single crumb.The edge of my fried egg was slightly burned. Before, I would have shouted until Dad made another one.I picked up my fo

On Tuesday, I developed a fever.My forehead burned, and my throat was so dry that swallowing hurt.Dad was still away on a flight, and Mom had the most important full-costume rehearsal before her premiere.The housekeeper gave me fever medicine, told Nora to watch television quietly, and went to the grocery store for lunch ingredients.Only Nora and I remained in the house.I wrapped myself in a thick blanket and curled into the corner of my bed.The bedroom door opened.Nora walked inside. With no adults present, every trace of sweetness disappeared from her face.She went to my desk, opened a drawer, and began searching."What are you taking?" I asked hoarsely.She ignored me and pulled a small red velvet box from the back.It held the custom necklace Dad and Mom had made for their wedding anniversary. The pendant combined a tiny airplane with a ballet slipper, and my name, Lily, was engraved across it.They had told me the necklace represented their love and proved that

My fever rose suddenly during the second half of the night.Dad wrapped me in a towel and ran downstairs with me in his arms. Mom followed in slippers without changing her shoes.The emergency department at St. Alder Children's Hospital was washed in harsh white light.The doctor studied the thermometer and frowned. "One hundred three point six. Why did you wait this long? And where did these injuries come from?"Dad stood beside the bed, his tall body somehow bent and smaller."Another child pushed her. We didn't notice."The doctor shook his head and placed a stethoscope against my chest."She has mild malnutrition and signs of stomach cramping. How have you been feeding her? A six-year-old's stomach is sensitive. Have you been forcing her to eat food she can't tolerate?"Mom froze and turned sharply toward Dad."Carrots," she whispered. "She hates carrots. But for the last few days, she has eaten them every day and swallowed without even drinking water."The doctor finishe

Mom's phone rang for the third time in the living room.She sat on the kitchen floor beside a Dutch oven, awkwardly cutting pork ribs while following an online recipe.Her hands, insured for a fortune and trained to create perfect ballet lines, were covered in grease and diluted blood. A fresh cut on her index finger was still bleeding.The phone stopped and began ringing again.I stood in the kitchen doorway, terrified by the blood on her finger."Mommy, your phone. Your hand is bleeding," I reminded her softly.Mom wiped her hand carelessly against her apron and answered."Elena Johnston! Why aren't you at the theater? Opening night is in two days. Do you still want to be principal dancer?" The artistic director's furious voice came through the phone.Mom looked at me in the doorway."Mr. Bell," she said calmly, "I'm resigning."The other end went silent."What are you talking about? You worked three years for this role. Do you understand the financial consequences of walk

One week later, sunlight streamed through the living-room windows on a Saturday morning.I sat on the couch and changed television channels with the remote."Mommy! I want strawberry milk, and it can't be cold!" I shouted.Mom leaned out from the kitchen with a cleaning cloth in her hand. Her hair was twisted loosely behind her head, and she wore an old flour-stained T-shirt."Coming! I just finished washing the strawberries!" she answered cheerfully.She brought me warm strawberry milk and placed it on the coffee table.I took one sip and frowned."It's too sweet. I don't want it." I pushed the cup away.Mom did not become angry. She picked it up. "All right. Mommy will make orange juice. Would you like a little honey?""No honey. I want it sour.""Whatever our little queen wants." Mom returned to the kitchen.The front door opened, and Dad entered carrying a huge box."Lily, look what Daddy bought you!"He set it down and opened it. Inside was a limited-edition doll cast