Chapter 4: What Zoe Had Been Told
Mark and I looked at each other across the table.
"Tell us what you think we know," I said.
"Start there."
Zoe pulled her sleeves further down.
She was doing the thing she'd done since she was nine — making herself smaller when she expected to be in trouble.
"The lip thing," she said.
"What else?"
A long pause.
"The clinic in March."
"The weight clinic."
She flinched at the word.
"She said it was just a consultation.
She said it was normal.
She said all her friends had done it before prom."
"Miranda's friends," I said.
"Not yours."
"She said it was the same thing."
Mark leaned forward.
"Zoe, whose idea was it?
The consultation.
Whose idea was it originally?"
Zoe looked at the table.
"She mentioned it first.
But I didn't say no, so—"
"That's not the same as it being your idea."
"I know." Her voice was very small.
"She said I'd feel better about myself if I just talked to someone.
She said it wasn't a big deal.
She said you'd both make it into a huge thing if I told you, so it was better to just go and see and then decide."
The room was quiet.
"She told you not to tell us."
Zoe didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
I kept my voice even.
"What about the lip fillers?
Same thing?"
"She said I was old enough to decide for myself.
She said sixteen was basically an adult in most places.
She said—" Zoe stopped.
Started again.
"She said you'd say no just to control me.
That you liked keeping me young so you didn't have to think about the fact that I was growing up."
The words landed like something physical.
Mark's jaw tightened.
"She said that about your mother."
"She says things like that a lot." Zoe's voice cracked slightly on the last word.
"About both of you.
She says Dad lets you make all the decisions because he feels guilty about the divorce.
She says you use me to punish him."
I didn't move.
I didn't trust myself to move.
"How long has she been saying things like that to you?"
Zoe looked up.
Her eyes were wet.
"Since pretty much the beginning."
Mark stood up from the table and walked to the window.
He stood there with his back to us for a moment, and I could see the muscles in his shoulders.
"Zoe." His voice was controlled.
Careful.
"Did she ever ask you to keep other things from us?
Not just the appointments.
Other things."
Zoe hesitated.
"You're not in trouble," I said.
"Whatever it is, you're not in trouble."
"She asked me not to tell Dad when she went out on weeknights.
She said he worried too much and it was easier if I just said she was in the other room." Zoe wiped her eye with her sleeve.
"I didn't think it was a big deal.
I thought she just wanted privacy."
Mark turned around from the window.
"How many times?"
"I don't know.
A lot.
Maybe once a week for the last couple of months."
The silence that followed was a different kind than before.
Zoe looked between us.
"Dad.
What's happening?"
He came back to the table.
He sat down.
He looked at our daughter for a long moment before he answered.
"I don't know yet," he said.
"But I'm going to find out."
He said it quietly.
No drama in it.
May you like
Just a flat, certain statement.
It was the most frightened I'd felt all evening.
