pull his skin tight to close the wound, yanking at his face and causing his cheek to slant upward. An oval of sheared skin shines from behind his ear.
I hold my face still, taking in a long breath and walking closer to him. âItâs an injury. It will heal.â
He replaces the tape and bandage just as Gwen enters the kitchen. The doorbell ringsâdelivery guy with the Chinese foodâand I pay, carrying the brown paper bags to the table, where we all sit together.
âDoes it hurt?â Gwen asks her dad, sidling up to the table.
âYes,â he says. âLike hell. It has its own heartbeat.â
âIâm sorry, Dad.â
And there we sit at the table, the three of us, my family, silently eating fried rice and kung pao chicken.
âGreat home-cooked meal for family dinner night,â Gwen finally says, scraping her fork across her plate.
âThanks,â I say. âI worked hard at it.â
Gwen smiles, grateful, I believe, for a sarcastic reply instead of a reprimand.
âI bought sea bass and then left it in the car too long.â
âSea bass?â Cooper stops eating.
Thereâs a thing in marriageâa secret code used in front of kids and others. Words can be said and only the spouse knows the true meaning. So if the sentence was dictated and put on paper, the utterings would be harmless, unless of course you knew what the spouse was really saying. And this is what Cooper is really saying: You bought expensive fish from the best market in town and let it go bad?
Then I get to choose: Do I answer the asked question or the real question? I choose the asked. âYes, sea bass.â
âMy favorite,â Gwen says.
âI know. Thatâs why I got it. Sorry, Pea.â
She shrugs. âItâs okay.â She hesitates, her fork in the air. âCan I please go back to see Aunt Willa tonight? I can hardly stand thinking about her alone in the hospital.â¦â
I look to Cooper. âWhat do you think?â
âNo,â Cooper says. âYouâre grounded for sneaking out.â He glances from Gwen to me and then again at Gwen. âDoes anyone remember that part of the night? Sneaked out with her boyfriend? Am I the only one who thinks she shouldnât go out?â
âItâs my sister in the hospital,â I say. âThatâs not going out.â
âThen you take her,â he says. âBecause I donât trust her with the car.â
Gwen stifles a cry and stands quickly, so her chair falls backward, hitting the ground with a crack. âYou hate me.â
âNo, I donât. I love you and want to keep you safe.â Cooperâs voice is low and tired, an admission and an accusation combined. âAnd while weâre talking about this, I need you to hand over the credit card. Youâve abused its purpose, which was only for emergencies.â
âWhat do you mean?â Gwen asks.
âThe shopping. The clothes. Restaurants and movies. If you want to spend that kind of money, you need to get a job.â
âWhat is going on?â Gwen covers her face. âAunt Willa is, like, totally unconscious or something and youâre worried about me going to too many movies? This is insane.â
I want to step into the conversation, to ease the tension and clear the air. But the lost sleep finally catches me and is wrestling me to the ground. I stand also. âLetâs all just get a good nightâs sleep and start over tomorrow.â
ââStart overâ?â Gwen asks. âAs if Aunt Willa can start over tomorrow?â
I reach for my daughter and place my hand on her arm. âI mean us, baby. I mean us.â
âWill you please take me to see her?â Gwen asks. âOr please let me take the car.â
âIf I drive now,â I say, âit would be about as good as driving drunk. So you can take my car. But to the hospital and home. Thatâs