Savage Little Lies: Chapter 8

Sloane – age 6

I bounced the ball hard down the hallway. Mommy put down my brother, Bruno, to take a nap, so I got real bored. I didn’t like being bored. I liked to play. I tried to make noise real loud on purpose, but Bruno was a heavy sleeper.

Why can’t he just wake up!

I listened outside his door, but I didn’t hear anything. Shrugging, I decided to take the ball upstairs. I might play Barbies or something until he wakes up. I started to bounce the ball again, but sat down. I rolled the ball across the hall for a few moments. I’d get my Barbies soon, but this was fun. The ball kept hitting my bedroom door and would roll back. That last time I rolled it, the thing wouldn’t roll back, though.

I got on my knees to get it when I heard Mommy’s and Daddy’s voices. They said my name.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Mommy said, and I crawled on my knees until I got to their door. I pressed it open with my palm, but could only see Daddy’s back. Daddy was a big man.

He sighed. “You have to. You have to and you know that. For her sake.”

I let go of the door, sitting down. I tried to see around Daddy, but couldn’t really. I could only see Mommy’s feet between his big legs. She sat on their bed.

“You know what people tell me when I take her out?” Mommy gasped. “They tell me how beautiful she is. How I need to put her in pageants because she’s so stunning. She is stunning…”

Mommy’s voice sounded funny. It sounded sad like when her and Daddy fought. They’d been fighting a lot lately. Especially when I started school last year.

I played with my bracelet, a dangling charm on it. I didn’t remember when I’d gotten it. Mommy and Daddy had given it to me when I’d been real little.

“It’s not fair,” Mommy stated. It sounded like she was crying now. “What kind of people are we to do this to her?”

“We don’t have a choice.” Daddy’s voice was quiet. “And, Marilyn, you have to keep it together.”

“She’s going to know. As she gets older, she…”

The floor creaked under me, and Daddy whipped around. Daddy and Bruno looked a lot alike. They both had dark brown hair like Mommy. I didn’t have dark brown hair. Mine was almost black. Mommy said I looked more like my grandmother. She was an immigrant from Mexico. I didn’t know what immigrant meant, but I liked that I looked like her. I told people that whenever they asked. I looked like my grandma. I wished I’d gotten to meet her. She died before I was born.

Daddy pulled his hair out of his eyes, blinking down and looking at me. Hurriedly, he closed the door behind him, and I saw Mommy with her face in her hands.

She had been crying. She had her mouth in her hands before Daddy closed the door.

He squatted down to me.

“What are you doing, little punk?” he asked, tugging on my braid. He grinned, and I giggled. He tugged the other braid. “Playing spy on me and Mommy?”

He started to tickle me, and I couldn’t stop laughing. Daddy was always so funny. He tickled until I had tears in my eyes and was on the floor.

“Daddy, Daddy!” I laughed, squealing. “I wasn’t spying!”

“You sure?” He laughed too before tickling me again. “You know only spies get ice cream?”

“Ice cream?” I shot up, out of breath. “I’m a spy, then!”

Daddy chuckled, rubbing my head. He helped me up, then took my hand. “Come on. Let’s go see if your brother is up from his nap. I’m sure he’d like to come too.”

“Bru’s lame,” I mused, skipping down the hallway with him. “He always has to nap.”

“That’s because he’s younger than you. That doesn’t make him lame. It just means he’ll always need a little help from you since you’re his big sister.”

Picking me up, he gave me a piggyback ride. I held on real tight, but spun around when the door opened.

Mommy peeked outside the room, looking really sad. She leaned against the door, raising her hand at me. She waved, so small, and I did back.

“Can Mommy be a spy?” I asked Daddy when he took me downstairs.

Daddy gazed up at me. “Why, honey?”

He placed me down, and I shrugged. “She looks sad, and if spies get ice cream, I want her to be a spy too. Ice cream will make her happy.”

Ice cream always made me happy. Made sense.

Daddy started to say something, but then he put his hand over his mouth. He rubbed a second before taking my hand again.

“Let’s just go get Bru, huh?” He nodded. “Your mommy will be okay.”

I hoped she would. No one should be sad.

And Mommy was sad a lot.