“I really believed it was funny.”
Claire leaned against the counter.
“I know.”
“That might be worse.”
“It was.”
Diane accepted the answer.
“I saw my father do it to my brother.”
Claire had never heard this.
“When?”
“His seventh birthday.”
Diane stared at the cake.
“My brother cried. Everyone laughed. My father told him not to be weak.”
Claire stayed quiet.
“So when I did it to Luke and Andrew, I thought…”
She stopped.
“What?”
“That I was continuing something.”
“You were.”
Diane looked at her.
Claire continued.
“That doesn’t make it good.”
“No.”
Diane nodded.
“It just means somebody had to stop continuing it.”
Claire looked through the window at Ellie.
“Somebody did.”
They finished cleaning the kitchen.
That evening, after everyone left, Ellie collapsed onto the couch beside Luke.
“Best birthday ever.”
“You say that every year.”
“This one really was.”
“What was your favorite part?”
“The dinosaur.”
“Which one?”
“The giant one.”
“Obviously.”
“And Aunt Kate’s gift.”
“Good choice.”
“And Grandma didn’t push me.”
Luke looked at her.
“You were worried?”
“A tiny bit.”
His heart sank.
Ellie noticed.
“Not big worried.”
“What’s the difference?”
She thought.
“Big worried is when you think nobody will help.”
Luke swallowed.
“And tiny worried?”
“When you know they will.”
He looked at his daughter for a long time.
That was the difference.
Not whether bad things ever happened.
They did.
Not whether relatives disappointed you.
They would.
Not whether boundaries were crossed.
Sometimes they were.
Safety was knowing that when you said stop, somebody would listen.
And if the person hurting you did not listen, somebody else would stand beside you.
Five years earlier, Ellie had learned the opposite for several terrifying seconds.
She said no.
Her grandmother ignored her.
Her face struck the cake.
People laughed.
Then her mother ran toward her.
Her father came through the door.
And the entire direction of the family changed.