Our eight-year-old daughter loved sweets.
But for three nights in a row he barely ate after dinner.
“Does your mouth hurt?” I asked.
He looked at Daniel before he responded.
“No.
That look stayed with me.
Thursday night I pretended to fall asleep. Daniel stayed by my side for almost twenty minutes.
Then he moved. Careful. In silence. He got out of bed. I waited until the bedroom door closed.
Then I followed him. First he went down the stairs. He walked into his office.
From the dark hallway, I saw him key open the bottom drawer of his desk.
He pulled out the little white box.
Then something metallic. He put both in his pocket.
My heart started beating hard. He went up the stairs.
Straight to Lily’s room. He closed the door behind him. I stayed outside.
At first I didn’t hear anything.
So Daniel spoke.
“Open up more.
My whole body was stiff.
Then I heard Lily’s voice.
“Dad… I don’t want to.
“Just a little more.
Can we stop?
“Not yet.
I got closer.
Then Daniel said,
I need to see everything.
I put my hand on the doorknob.
But before I opened it, I heard Lily start crying.
Then Daniel whispered:
“Your mother still can’t know about this.
I opened the door at a slap. Daniel turned quickly. Lily was sitting on the edge of the bed.
The tears were running down his face. Daniel had something small in his hand. I couldn’t see what it was.
What are you doing?
