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He pauses, waiting for me to say something, but I’m not sure where to start. It’s too difficult to explain the shape my life has taken in his absence. He doesn’t know how bad it’s been.
His attempt at getting me to talk continues. “Whose car is that out front?”
Whatever thin thread was keeping me together unravels.
“The Alcotts’.” My voice squeaks, holding back a stray sob.
Silence. A long, awful silence. Then his tone turns urgent. “Zaiya, let me in. I need to talk to you.”
I swallow hard. No one ever cares to talk to me.
“I can’t.” My whisper is full of shame. “I did something bad.”
He scoffs, still not understanding. “Like what? You didn’t curtsy?”
When I don’t reply, he pats his hand against the door and softens.
“Come on, talk to me. What’s going on with the senator? Dad shouldn’t be making deals with him.”
That’s all I am. A deal.
“Are they gone yet?”
“The Alcotts? I don’t know. I snuck in the back.” He knocks harder. “Just open the door.”
“I can’t.” My voice struggles to get out. I’ve spoken more tonight than I have in months.
“Zaiya!” My father’s voice rumbles through the open foyer downstairs like thunder.
I shrink back.
Heavy footsteps pound up the stairs.
“Someone tell me what the hell is going on.” Asher’s plea is useless. He hasn’t witnessed our father’s anger like I have.
The key fits in the lock, and the door flies open, making the candle flicker wildly. My father stalks into my room, staring me down as if every ugly thing he wants to say is fighting to come out first.
Asher follows behind him, still dressed like the lawyer our parents love bragging about, tie loosened and suit unbuttoned after work. But he might as well be invisible.
“You humiliated me. My campaign is over before it even started!” My father advances towards me. “Senator Alcott is pulling his support. You made a goddamn fool out of me!”
The backs of my legs hit the bed and I fold onto it, unable to stand beneath the weight of his gaze. His eyes bulge, highlighting the redness in his face.
“Toby was livid,” he continues. “Spitting on him? That behavior is unacceptable.”
The belt slides free from his slacks, and he doubles it in his hand.
“I’m sorry.” My mind spins frantically. “But he was horrib—”
His hand snaps up, gripping my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“Barret Alcott would have guaranteed me a win.”
Asher is quick to pull him back. “What the fuck are you doing? It’s not that serious.”
My father shakes him off, staying focused on me.
“Turn over.”
