Little Girls(77)

“Very good. But it’s time for bed now.”

Susan groaned.

Ted rubbed is daughter’s head and said, “Tomorrow’s another day. Get up early and start fresh.”

Susan swung her legs over the piano bench and stood up. “I can’t wait to tell Abigail about the pirate treasure we found in the well today.”

“I don’t want you to play with Abigail anymore,” Laurie said.

Both Susan and Ted turned to look at her. The matching expression on their faces would have been comical had they not looked so much alike at that moment—so much that they could have been one complete person split suddenly into two.

“How come?” Susan said.

“Because I don’t like her. She’s a bad influence.”

Ted looked like he wanted to smile—like he thought she might be joking with him—but he couldn’t quite get there. “Are you serious, Laurie?”

“You should have seen her the other day down at the park,” Laurie said. “She was out of control. She threw rocks at some girl and hurt her, made her cry. And then she wouldn’t listen when Liz called her over.”

“The other girl threw rocks first!” Susan countered.

Laurie glared at her daughter. “No talk backs.”

“It’s not fair!”

“Hush up for a second, Susan,” Ted told her. “Laurie, what exactly happened?”

“Just what I said. She was out of control, and she’s certainly not the type of girl our daughter should be playing with.”

“There’s no one else here,” Susan moaned.

“Susan knows better than to do what some other kid does.” Ted was trying to be diplomatic, but Laurie thought he just sounded condescending. “She’s old enough and smart enough to know right from wrong.”

“You didn’t see what I saw, Ted. This is not up for discussion. I’ve been thinking about it for a few days now.” She turned back to Susan, whose eyes were red and glassy now. “Do you understand me? I forbid you to play with that girl.”

Susan kicked one leg of the piano bench. “That’s not fair! I hate it here!”

Laurie laughed. “You’re the one who wanted to stay in this house.” She looked at Ted. “The both of you.”

“I hate it here and I hate you!” Susan shouted.

“Susan—”

“You’re always so mean!” she cried, then took off down the hall.

Laurie shouted her daughter’s name once more, demanding that she return to the room until she was excused, but Susan’s footfalls were already pounding up the stairs. A moment later, the bedroom door slammed.

“Disrespectful brat,” Laurie breathed.

“Hey.” Ted stood from the bench and went over to her. When she tried to sidestep him, he gripped her by the wrist and tugged her toward him. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“Me? Oh, that’s rich. Our daughter’s running wild, with no discipline whatsoever, and I’m the problem?” She jerked her wrist free of him.

“Susan is not running wild and she has plenty of discipline. She’s a damn good kid and you need to loosen up a bit. Enough is enough, Laurie. We’ve both been very patient with you throughout this whole thing, but I can’t sit idly by while—”

“I’m the mother and she’s the child! It’s not you and her against me, it’s supposed to be you and me against her.”

“No one needs to be against anyone.”

“All you do is sit idly by. That’s all you’ve ever done, leaving me to be the heavy. You play with her, you teach her piano, you have a great relationship, she hugs and kisses you, and that’s wonderful for you, because Mommy’s the bad guy. Mommy’s the monster.”

“That’s incredibly unfair.”

“And what the hell do you mean you’ve both been patient with me throughout all of this? My father died. What do you want, a medal?”

“Keep your voice down,” he told her.

“If that girl comes by the house asking for Susan, you send her home. I don’t want her coming around here.”

She fled from the room before he could say another word. In the kitchen, she put the remaining slices of pizza in the fridge, then crushed up the pizza box and stuffed it in the trash. There was cold coffee in the pot on the stove. She poured some in a mug and heated it in the microwave. Her hands shook as she brought the mug to her lips.

Ted came in, a grim expression on his face. What bothered Laurie most was that he didn’t look angry. It was how he had regarded her in the days after the highway incident—a combination of concern and pity. He folded his arms and wandered toward the kitchen table, looking like he contemplated pulling out one of the chairs, but remained standing in the end.

“Can I ask you something?” he said. The timbre of his voice matched the quality of his expression.

“What?” It came out in a bark.

“Are you planning to leave me?”

She set the mug of coffee on the counter but didn’t answer. What surprised her was that Ted’s question didn’t surprise her. She couldn’t quite say why that was . . . but she had sensed the tension between them for some time now, even before coming to this house.