Then he noticed the broken plate.
The room went silent.
Melissa stepped forward sadly. “I didn’t want you to see that today. I know tomorrow is hard for you.”
Tomorrow was the anniversary of my mom’s death.
Dad sighed. “What happened?”
Melissa answered immediately.
“She smashed it. She was angry.”
“That’s not true!” I croaked. “It slipped!”
“Let Melissa finish,” Dad said.
My stomach dropped.
“She screamed at me,” Melissa continued softly. “Then she ran outside.”
“Dad, she dragged me!” I shouted.
Melissa laughed lightly. “Mark, do you really believe that?”
Dad looked at my scalp.
“It’s red,” he said slowly. “But you were outside.”
He didn’t believe me.
Melissa gently placed a hand on his arm. “She’s grieving.”
“How could I lock the deadbolt from outside?” I cried.
Dad hesitated.
“She has a point.”
For a moment Melissa’s face tightened—but she recovered.
“I locked it because she ran out screaming. I was scared.”
Dad sighed heavily.
“Enough. Go take a shower, Emily.”
“What about her?”
“Go to your room.”
Upstairs, the hot water burned my skin.
Through the vents I heard them arguing quietly.
“You can’t let her talk to me like that,” Melissa said.
“I know,” Dad replied. “She’s struggling with the anniversary.”