Irina says, “Ask your daughter where she’s been.”
His eyes shift to me.
I should lie. I know I should. I know it instantly. I should say I went for air. I went to the chapel. I drove around because I couldn’t think. Anything but the truth.
But I’m too frightened and too guilty to lie well.
“I was with Roman.”
The room goes still.
Mama closes her eyes.
Irina actually looks pleased.
Papa’s face does not change much, but I know him too well not to see the anger move in underneath.
“With him,” he says.
“Yes.”
His voice is quiet when he says the next part. That makes it worse. “While your children were missing.”
It hits exactly where it should.
I feel it in my chest, my throat, my stomach. “I didn’t know,” I say.
“No,” he says. “You didn’t.”
Mama reaches for me again, but I can’t look at her. If I do, I’ll fall apart.
Irina says, “Unbelievable.”
I turn on her. “Please shut up.”
“Katerina,” Mama says softly.
“No,” Irina says, louder now. “She does not get to speak to me like that. Not after disappearing and leaving her children in this house while she?—”
She stops herself, but not out of kindness.
The damage is done. Something in me gives way.
“This house?” I say. “You mean this very safe house? This protected house? The one where children can vanish in the middle of the day, and no one sees anything?”
Papa says, “Enough.”
I look at him. “No,” I seethe. “Not enough.”
He comes a step closer. “This is not helping.”
“My children are gone.”
“Yes,” he says. “And shouting in the hall will not bring them back.” The coolness in his voice hits me like a tidal wave.
It makes me feel sick.
I laugh once, and there is no humor in it at all. “You always sound like that.”