When The Puppet Falls For The Puppeteer

Submission's Echo

Myra

"Huh... I thought I smelled pancakes," Dan said as he walked into the kitchen.
I forced a smile, flipping the last one off the pan.

"So you're back?" he asked, giving me a once-over—his eyes lingering a second longer on my outfit. A lime-colored ruched top. Navy blue denims. Modest. The kind Marcus approved.

"Yeah, I am." That was all I could manage. Last night hadn't really ended—it was just simmering beneath the surface.

I called out, "Lillie! Come have breakfast. We're getting late for school."

Setting a plate in front of Dan, I gestured, "Sit, you can eat."

I turned again to call Lillie, but then—

Footsteps.
Marcus.
And William.

They descended the stairs together, and I froze. My breath caught. I turned away. My hand trembled. He hadn't even looked at me yet and I am shivering.

Dan noticed.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low.

I nodded too quickly. "Uh-huh, yes."

His gaze drifted to the stairs again.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No, he didn't." That answer has become like a reflex. Automatic. Practiced.

"Myra!" Lillie came running down, backpack bouncing behind her.

"Hey, honey, don't run—" But before I could reach her, she collided into Marcus.

His phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a crack.

"Lillie!" I snapped, too sharp, too loud. I picked up the phone. The screen was fractured.

"I told you not to run. Look what you did—you broke his phone." I was scolding her, but I was speaking to my own anxiety.

"You have to be careful. You know it's not good for your health. And its an expensive phone. How can you be so reckless?"

Then—
His fingers brushed against mine. I flinched. He took the phone.

"I—I'm sorry about your phone," I said, my voice barely holding.

He didn't respond. Just looked. From the shattered screen... to me... then to Lillie.

She was already sobbing.

And then—

He knelt.

"I'm sorry, Marc," she cried.

"Come here," he said gently, pulling her into a hug. "Shh... it's okay, princess. It's not your fault."

Sometimes I wonder...If I were Lillie—or anyone else—so that for once I can feel a fraction of this tenderness.

"Get a glass of water," he said, eyes still on Lillie.

I didn't move. Just watched him soothe her.

"Red." His voice cut through my trance.

"Yeah—yeah," I blinked.

"Glass of water," he repeated.

"Oh. Right. Yeah." I handed him the glass, and he gave it to Lillie with calm precision.

He sat her gently at the table, wiping her cheeks.

"You didn't have to scold her," he said quietly.
"It's just a phone."

I nodded. That's all I ever do.

I knelt beside Lillie and cupped her chin.

"Hey, sweetheart... the doctor said no running, remember?"