“She’s a big girl. She’ll get over it. She’ll just have to accept that this is the way it’s going to be.” His voice fades in and out. I’m straining to eavesdrop, but all I hear are the plastic clicks of the Connect Four coins as Gretchen drops in three in a row when she thinks I’m not looking. “As her father, I know what’s best for her future. Her fate is sealed.”
It’s quiet. I strain, cocking my head and leaning my ear toward the den. The conversation seems to have ended. From what I gather, Mark doesn’t want Waverly going off to college and Jane isn’t going to try to change his mind.
Talk about fucked up. They all know how much this means to her.
I return to my game with Gretchen, playing several rounds until Kath calls the kids back to her house for bed.
“Thank you, Jensen,” Kath says. “They really enjoy spending time with you.”
I get up off the floor and stretch. Gideon is putting his puzzle pieces back in the box, and Summer’s kids have left the room.
“Hey, what was that about at dinner tonight?” As Kath’s son, I see no reason why she couldn’t perhaps confide in me.
She shifts her weight, her eyes darting to the ground and then toward Gideon. “It’s not for us to discuss.”
“Mark said she could go to college if she got a partial scholarship.”
Kath tucks her hair behind her ears. I’m making her nervous. Maybe it’s because I’m arguing with the wrong person. Maybe it’s because right now I remind her of Josiah. I’m a dog with a bone, and I refuse to let it go.
“She can still go, right?” I press on.
“I believe there’s been a change of plans.”
“He can’t do that. He gave her his word.”
She licks her lips and smiles gently, still not looking me in the eye. “That’s between Mark and Waverly. I’m sure they’ll reach an agreement.”
“Agree on what? It seems like Mark’s mind is made up. What he says goes. None of you ever question any decision he makes, and let’s face it, some of them are a little questionable.”
More like most of them.
Okay. All of them.
Kath trembles, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Come on, kids. Time for bed.”
She’s not going to engage in this discussion with me.
“You know something, don’t you, Mom?” I want to remind her we are family. She and I. Flesh and blood. That ought to count for something. We should be able to communicate openly without holding things back or else what’s the point?
Her posture straightens and she turns toward me, our eyes locking. The fidgeting and nervousness seem to subside for a second. “Jensen, you will not speak about Mark this way in his house. Do you understand?”
“We have a problem here?” Mark stands in the middle of the only exit out of the family room, his hands slid deep into his pockets. His mouth his straight, his eyes narrowing in my direction. “Kath, everything okay?”
“Yes, of course, dear,” she says sweetly.
Keep sweet.
That’s the phrase I’ve heard Mark say to all the girls. They’re not allowed to have opinions or show emotions. They’re to let him make all the decisions. That’s why Jane didn’t stick up for Waverly and that’s why Kath pretends everything is fine just now.
He’s morphed them into timid, spineless shells of women. They wear blankness on their faces and keep quiet, working in tandem to raise a herd of Millers, taking cues and directives from the man who keeps their beds warm every third night.
My abhorrence of Mark, the one I’ve tried to ignore since the moment I first met him, reignites with a fury.
“Are you staying at our house tonight, Daddy?” Gretchen asks as she runs up into his arms.
“Sure am, sugar plum.” He scoops her up into his arms like he’s some kind of T.V. dad. It still blows my fucking mind that this is all normal to them.
I wait for Mark to disappear into the backyard, making his way to Kath’s house with Kath, Gideon, and Gretchen in tow under the veil of a sunless sky. The house is dark. I assume Jane and Bellamy have retired for the night. I trek up the stairs, knocking on Waverly’s door softly enough that she can hear it without me waking up the other ladies.
She doesn’t answer.
There’s light under her door, so I know she’s up.
I rap again.
Nothing.
I twist her doorknob, showing myself in. She’s lying on her bed, headphones in her ears. Her eyes are shut. My finger traces across her arm softly. I’m not sure if she’s sleeping or not, but I don’t want to startle her.
Her eyes flutter. She jumps slightly, inching back with her hands and sitting up. She glances at the clock on her nightstand.