Call him Daddy, when she was the one who said I wasn’t supposed to call him that. She said he was not to be trusted.
Back in the kitchen, Kellen stood next to the table. I said, “Stay,” and he stayed.
He didn’t fuss like Mama. Sometimes he asked me about what I was doing, like why I put bread in the bottom of the meatloaf pan. I liked that he asked and didn’t get upset if I didn’t answer.
He said, “Can I do anything to help?” and he did what I asked. He fed Donal, kept him out of the way when I opened the oven door, and put him in his room before dinner. So he would be safe. Donal was two, I knew that, but I didn’t know his birthday. We never had presents or cake for him, but I didn’t remember having presents or cake until I went to live with Aunt Brenda. Now that Donal could walk by himself, it was harder to keep him safe. At least pretty soon he would be big enough to take care of himself. Next year.
Once the potatoes were cooked, Kellen mashed them, and he never got tired and had to rest like I did. All ten pounds of potatoes mashed at once.
While Kellen mashed, I prayed. Let Liam not come. Make Liam stay away. He always said he would do something and then never did it. When I was little, he said he would take me to the zoo. He never did. So let him stay away. Stay away.
Kellen turned the meatloaf out of the pan on the platter, and then he understood what the bread was for. It soaks up the grease. I laid the carrots around the meatloaf and Kellen put the potatoes in a bowl. The table looked perfect when Mama came out of the bathroom. Her hair fell in shiny brown curls over the shoulders of her silky red kimono. She was so pretty, but her face pinched up when she saw the food and Kellen.
“What’s this?” she said.
“Wavy made dinner,” Kellen said.
“Where’s Liam? She said he was coming at six.”
“It’s six now. She made meatloaf.”
It didn’t matter how much I prayed for Liam to stay away, if Mama was going to say his name without the protection. She made him come, whistling as he walked across the porch. Smiling as he walked in without knocking.
“This looks good, Val. When Kellen said you were making your mom’s special meatloaf, I said, ‘I have to get some of that.’” The whole time Liam talked he was creeping down on Mama, his hand sneaking on her neck. She gave him her special smile, going softer. The way candles are softer than lightbulbs.
Liam pulled out Mama’s chair for her, and then he looked around the table. Counting. Four plates.
“You staying for dinner, Kellen?”
“Yeah. She invited me.”
Then Liam smiled the smile that meant he was not to be trusted.
“Oh, Kellen gives you a hand with things, does he, Val?”
Mama pouted. “You never come around. I guess I need someone to take care of things, since you can’t be bothered.”
“Why should I be bothered when you don’t even wash your hair?”
“I washed my hair.”
“First time in a long goddamn time. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
Mama cried while Kellen put food on the plates. Liam frowned. He didn’t like watching Kellen serve dinner. As much as I didn’t like Liam eating the dinner I cooked.
“Does Val make you a lot of nice meals while I’m off taking care of the business that puts food on the table?” Liam said.
“Wavy invited me.” Kellen took a bite of meatloaf.
“Oh, Wavy invited you?” Liam said.
Kellen finished chewing before he said, “Yeah.”
For a while, nobody said anything. Kellen kept eating. Potatoes went into his mouth and the fork came out shiny. I loved the way he ate. I wanted to eat like that.
“That’s a load of crap,” Liam said.
“I invited Kellen.” I thought the words might burn my tongue, but seeing Liam’s stupid mouth hang open was worth it. Sometimes he forgot that I didn’t talk. Not that I couldn’t talk. He blinked and ate some meatloaf.
“This is really good, Val. You’re as good a cook as your mother.”
Mama smiled. She wanted any nice words, even if she didn’t deserve them.
“We just about got everything ready for Myrtle Beach,” Liam said.
“You’re going this year?” Mama said.
“Yeah, baby. We’ll take the bikes down. Take some product to sell. A little business, a little pleasure.”
“I know your kind of business.” Mama made an ugly face.
Kellen swallowed quick and said, “Which bike you riding down?”
“Eat your dinner, Vonnie,” Liam said.
Safer to nod, even if it was a lie. I should have nodded, but I stared at my plate.
“I said eat your dinner.”
I hated being afraid, but I picked up my fork. I moved a bite of mashed potatoes away from the mountain. Kellen bought real butter, not margarine. I could never get the lumps out, but he’d mashed the potatoes creamy smooth. They were beautiful.
“So, you’re leaving tomorrow?” Kellen was talking to Liam but he sent a message to me: Just take a bite.
“Yeah. You’re ready to go tomorrow, right?”
I tried to send Kellen a message: Don’t go. I think he got it, because he squinted hard.