53. Henry
53
HENRY
I don’t understand how Liz can turn on tears in two seconds.
She’s wailing right now, and it’s earsplitting. Everyone has rushed to her side. A few women are patting her face, trying to figure out why she’s crying and failing. I don’t know what her excuse will be. Perhaps that she’s descending into madness?
“He doesn’t care!” She cries, mascara gathering with her tears. “He’s never cared about me!”
“Who, doll?” The ladies pry, still trying to wipe her face. She’s moving around so spastically that they can hardly do it without poking her in the eye.
“My father!” Lizzy shouts. She releases a heavy sigh and points a finger toward the stage, right at our dad. “ Him !”
Oh, she’s good.
“Roman?” The ladies say in unison, turning to look at him. “What did he do?”
“He didn’t want me to come. When I did, he stuck me at this table in the back. He’s hated my face since I was a child. Says I look too much like my mother.” She basically sobs her way through the sentence. “He can’t even stand to look at me!”
I try to stifle my laughter as I stand, aware that I’m about to get myself in trouble. “Father!” I shout across the room, in the same direction Liz’s hand is pointed. “Come quick! Lizzy is distraught!”
My dad turns his eyes slowly toward me, anger in his gaze. I know I’ll pay for this later. I know this is foolish, but when Amelie’s message appeared on my screen, I stopped caring about what I’ll face after this.
Dad makes his way off the stage and into an aisle. Liz is still going strong with the tears, her sighs getting longer, her wailing more infrequent. I’ve never seen someone so perfectly play a damsel in distress. I don’t think she’s taken a normal breath in three minutes. Part of me wonders if this is fake, or if perhaps something actually triggered it, because this is ridiculous.
“What’s the matter?” Dad says, hands pressed to his temples as he surveys the damage. He all but rolls his eyes when Lizzy blows her nose into the tablecloth, but the ladies surrounding her chair eye him with disgust instead of her. “Elizabeth, what happened?”
“You told me my nose—you said it was ugly!” She starts shuddering again. “That’s why you didn’t want me here. But I came anyway, and now I’m stuck in the back! All because I’m hideous!”
Dad’s eyes widen. “That—that isn’t true!”
“I’m going to get Liz some tissues,” I say, weaving my way through the crowd that gathered around us. “Keep her company, Dad.”
“I don’t have time!” He calls back, failing to sound sympathetic. There’s no way he can leave, because a decent portion of people have flocked him. He’d have to elbow his way out.
I give him a wave over my shoulder and make my way to the door.
The problem is, I have no idea where Amelie went, and I don’t want to draw attention by asking where the pieces are being stored. I assume it’s somewhere behind the stage, given the setup of this building, but finding the door is the hard part.
I pull my phone out and send a text to Amelie, not really expecting an answer, but figuring that it’s wiser than asking someone.
How do I get to you? Where are you?
I’m halfway across the lobby when she replies.
Ames
go to the far right. don’t stop until you see the funky little trash can, then go in that door. i’ll be standing outside the correct one when i hear your footsteps
I look around for the trash bin. The only one I see is gray with strange claw feet, so I assume that’s what she’s referring to. There’s security down the hallway, so I get to the door before he gets a glimpse of me. If this is the correct place, then he’s just a little too close to what’s about to happen.
Amelie must agree, because she doesn’t poke her head into the hall until I’m only a foot away. She motions frantically inside the room, so I follow behind her, not shocked by what I see. The room is basically a massive storage closet, and they’ve already found my pieces. Jensen is trying to get Lover of Mine onto a dolly. Amelie is watching him, brow wrinkled like she could do it better.
“This’ll go a lot quicker with two of us,” Jensen grumbles in my direction. “Give me a hand.”
I wordlessly cross the room and grab the other end of the canvas. These pieces are larger than most casual décor, and I’m now regretting the decision. I know this would be easier if they were smaller.
Jensen and I lift the piece on his count, and we get it settled almost instantly. Good. That’s one down. I don’t see any of my others, though I’m not sure if they’re here. My dad made it seem like he was ready to sell every last one, but he must not have taken as many as I expected.
“This one next,” Jensen says, motioning to my Ophelia.
I nod and grab a corner, settling it next to the other. Once we get the third and final piece balanced, Amelie walks over to us. Her motions are somewhat frantic, like she’s worried about our time frame, and I understand. Regardless of Lizzy’s ‘incident’, we still don’t have a huge window. Her crying is no longer audible back here, which means she’s cooling it down.
“I’ll take these out,” Jensen says, pushing the dolly slightly forward. The pieces aren’t all that heavy on wheels, but keeping them upright will be a challenge. “Meg is out back. There’s a door down the hall.”
“I’ll go first and make sure it’s clear,” Amelie says, standing up. “Henry, stay here. Or go back out. I’m not sure which is wisest. I don’t?—”
“I’ll stay here,” I say. I’m almost certain that reentering the hall could end poorly.
Amelie nods and walks out the door. I hear her shoes click down the hall, and slowly, the sound disappears until I hear nothing more. Jensen waits until she’s no longer to be heard, because as soon as it’s quiet, he follows.
Once I’m alone, I’m not sure what there is to do.
Am I a sitting duck if I stay here? What if my dad comes back? I guess there isn’t much he can do—my pieces are already gone. There’s nothing else for him to take from me.
I pocket my hands to stop myself from digging through the rest of these pieces. I’d be wasting time and drawing attention to myself. My focus needs to be on the situation at hand. Anything else is foolish. I either need to get out of here, or make sure that everything is going according to plan. The second is mostly impossible, so?—
The door hinges creak behind me, and my breathing stops.
“Henry.”
I close my eyes and swallow hard.
No.
Not now.
“Please,” I say quietly. “Don’t.”
“This game is over, son.” My dad’s voice rolls through the room. “Turn around.”
I don’t turn around because I’m not stupid.
“Turn around,” a second voice says. “Come on.”
My stomach churns when I place the tone of voice.
“Henry,” she says, voice practically dripping with disdain.
I turn around to see a face that mirrors Amelie’s exactly.