Chapter 4 - The Blue Box And Mark's Realization
When we arrived at Diane’s house, Mark was already waiting on the porch.
He looked pale.
“She called me.”
“And?”
“She says we’re making this into something bigger than it is.”
“Of course she thinks that.”
Emma held my hand as we walked inside.
Diane was standing in the living room.
The blue box rested on the coffee table.
I pointed toward it.
“Open it.”
Diane folded her arms.
“You’re acting like a lunatic.”
“Open the box.”
Mark stepped closer.
“Mom.”
Something in his tone finally made her move.
She raised the lid.
Inside were three tiny envelopes. Each one had a date from the four days I’d been gone.
My stomach dropped.
I picked one up.
There was a tooth inside.
And another.
“Why did you keep them?”
Diane sighed.
“For the Tooth Fairy.”
“Then why didn’t Emma have them?”
“I was planning to let her put them beneath her pillow one at a time.”
Emma suddenly spoke up.
“You said I couldn’t keep them.”
Diane looked toward her.
“I said Grandma would take care of them.”
“No.”
Emma stepped behind my arm.
“You said they were ugly.”
Diane’s expression tightened.
“Emma, that’s not what I meant.”
“She told me not to smile.”
Mark stared at his mother.
“What?”
Emma was crying now.
“She took a picture and said I looked funny because you could see the crooked ones.”
Mark’s face turned white.
I remembered Diane’s final remark.
Ask Emma why she kept coming back.
Now I understood exactly what she’d been doing.
She wasn’t simply removing teeth.
She’d been convincing Emma that something was wrong with her until a seven-year-old believed allowing Grandma to “fix” her was better than looking ugly.
Mark picked up the blue box.
“You’re done.”
Diane laughed once.
“Don’t pretend you’re innocent. You told me to handle it.”
I turned toward Mark.
“What?”
His expression shifted.
“I told her if one was already coming out, she could handle it. I never thought she’d pull anything that wasn’t ready.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew you’d say no.”
Emma’s voice came quietly from behind me.
“I told Daddy on the phone I didn’t like Grandma touching my teeth.”
Mark went pale.
I stared straight at him.
“You knew?”
“I thought Mom was only checking them. I was wrong.”
“You knew Emma didn’t like it.”
He looked toward our daughter.
“I know.”
Then he faced Diane.
“Look at her.”
For once, Diane actually did.
Emma immediately covered her mouth.
Mark’s voice cracked.
“She never used to do that.”
Diane said nothing.
“She smiled in every photo. She smiled at strangers. She smiled with food stuck between her teeth. And now she’s covering her mouth because of you.”
“I was only trying to help her.”
“No,” Mark said. “You were trying to change her.”
Diane turned toward me.
I recognized that expression.
Somehow, this was about to become my fault.
Sure enough, she said, “This is what happens when children grow up without standards.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Mark stared at her.
Then something in his expression shifted.
“You did this to us too.”
I looked toward him.
He was staring down at the box.
“What?”
Mark touched one of his front teeth.
“When I was nine, she made me stop smiling with my mouth open.”
Diane scoffed.
“You had a massive gap.”
“I was nine.”
“It was embarrassing.”
“For who?”
She didn’t respond.
“She made me retake my fourth-grade photo because I smiled.”
Diane crossed her arms.
“You looked ridiculous.”
Mark stared at her.
“I was nine.”
Diane stood up.
“This is ridiculous. I wanted my children to present themselves properly.”
Mark shook his head.
“You taught us to feel ashamed of ourselves.”
Diane looked furious now.
“After everything I sacrificed for you.”
There it was.
The sentence that had ended every disagreement during Mark’s childhood.
Except this time, he didn’t retreat.
“You don’t get to do that to Emma.”
Diane looked toward her granddaughter.
“I love that little girl.”
“Then you should’ve listened when she told you no.”
“I knew what was best.”
“She’s not your daughter.”
Diane flinched.
Mark placed the lid back onto the blue box.
“You won’t be alone with her anymore.”
“Mark.”
“No.”
His voice remained calm.
That seemed to frighten her more than shouting ever could have.
“And whether she has any relationship with you after this depends on what Emma feels comfortable with. And if she does, you will never comment on her teeth, her hair, her body, her clothes, or whether she looks pretty enough for a photograph.”
Diane turned toward me.
“You’re really going to let him do this?”
May you like
I almost laughed.
“You still believe I’m the problem.”
