“You also don't have to answer tonight if you don't want to.”
That made him speak.
“She makes Emma stand sometimes.”
Michael’s stomach dropped.
“How many times?”
Lucas shrugged.
“A lot.”
Emma whispered:
“Not a lot.”
Both looked at her.
She thought.
“Maybe six.”
Michael closed his eyes briefly.
Six.
He turned toward Lucas.
“What else?”
Lucas looked uncomfortable.
“Sometimes she takes Emma’s plate.”
“What?”
“Not all night.”
“Just if Emma complains.”
Michael looked toward his daughter.
Emma nodded.
His hands began to shake.
He put them under the table.
“How long?”
Emma shrugged.
“I get it later.”
“When?”
“When Mom says.”
She called Diane Mom sometimes.
That made the sentence hurt differently.
Michael swallowed.
“Anything else?”
Lucas said:
“She makes her sit on the stairs when we have dessert.”
Emma immediately protested:
“Only if I talk back.”
Michael looked at her.
The correction sounded like defense.
Learned defense.
He heard it.
“How often?”
She shrugged.
Michael did not push.
Lucas whispered:
“Dad.”
Michael looked over.
Lucas had called him Dad.
He did sometimes.
Not often when upset.
“What?”
“You can't tell Mom I said.”
Michael felt something cold move through him.
“Why?”
Lucas wiped one eye angrily.
“She says I’m supposed to support her.”
Michael stared.
“Support her how?”
“She says Emma already has you.”
“She says if I take Emma’s side, Mom has nobody.”
Emma stopped eating.
Michael’s chest tightened.
Lucas continued quickly:
“I don't want Emma punished.”
“I just don't say stuff.”
Michael reached across the table.
Not touching.
Just close.
“You are eleven.”
Lucas looked at him.
“You are not responsible for making your mother feel supported against another child.”
The boy started crying.
He hated crying.
Michael knew.
“I'm sorry.”
“No.”
Michael shook his head.
“Do not apologize.”
Lucas wiped his face.
“I should’ve told you.”
“You are eleven.”
He repeated it.
“As many times as I need to.”
“You are eleven.”
Emma looked toward Lucas.
“I didn't want you to get in trouble.”
Lucas looked at her.
“I know.”
Michael had to stand.
The table suddenly felt too small.
He walked into the kitchen.
Put both hands on the counter.
Breathed.
He heard forks behind him.
Normal sounds.
Children eating.
It felt absurd.
He had come home early because his final client meeting canceled.
He had stopped at a gas station and almost bought Emma gummy worms.
Then decided not to because Diane said they were trying to cut sugar before bed.
Ten minutes.