Page 86 of Undone

TWENTY-NINE

Noah - August

SATURN - SLEEPING AT LAST

There wasa faint creak of footsteps on the porch, followed by a small knock.

Dotty arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into a bemused grin. “Come in!” she called.

The door creaked open, revealing Dorian and Gracie. His shoulders were slumped, lips pressed into a thin line, and a shadow of worry clouded his brown eyes. Gracie clung to his shirt, peeking out from behind him.

He stepped aside, gently guiding Gracie into the room ahead of him.

Gracie stayed close to him. Her usual energy was missing, replaced by a muted stillness that felt out of place for her.

I caught his eye and mouthed, “Bad day?”

His jaw tightened briefly before he nodded once, his movements slower than usual. The tension in his shoulders was unmistakable.

Dotty rose from the couch, crossing the room with a calm, reassuring presence. She crouched in front of Gracie. “Hey, sweet girl. How was the party?”

Gracie shrugged, her fingers playing with the frayed edge of her bear’s ear. Her focus stayed downward, avoiding Dotty’s eyes.

Dorian reached out, his fingers grazing her hair before dropping his hand to his side. “It wasn’t the best day,” he said, his words careful. “But we all have bad days sometimes,” he said, looking at Gracie.

“G,” Dotty said, smiling gently, “want to come with me and get your room set up for tonight?”

“Okay,” Gracie replied.

Dotty and Gracie disappeared down the hallway, leaving Dorian and me alone in the living room.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

He raked his hands through his hair. “She was so excited this morning. I’m not sure what happened to make her go quiet since the birthday party. She won’t talk about it.”

I could hear the frustration in his tone, each word dipped in worry. His eyes were tired—the kind of exhaustion that came from not just lack of sleep, but the helplessness of a father who couldn’t reach his daughter.

“We have lots of fun plans, so hopefully that will cheer her up,” I replied, and he pulled me into an unfortunately quick hug.

Gracie and Dotty appeared, and I stumbled back quickly. Dotty’s eyes locked onto mine, but then she glanced at Gracie.

“Hey, G. What do you think? Cupcakes or a movie first?” I asked, trying to coax something out of her.

“Cupcakes, I guess…” Her words were barely audible.

“Good choice,” I said, offering a smile.

Dorian wrapped Gracie in a brief hug before heading out, looking back a few times before the door shut behind him. I watched him go, a strange mix of relief and longing tangling in my chest.

For the next hour, we stayed in the kitchen. The sweet smell of vanilla frosting filled the air as Gracie sat at the counter, her small hands carefully adding dollops of frosting to each cupcake. Sprinkles—vibrant pinks, yellows, and blues—scattered across the counter, some sticking to her fingers as she worked. The frosting smeared in delicate, uneven layers, and a few stray sprinkles spilled off the cupcakes. Gracie’s brow furrowed in concentration, but there was something distant in her expression, like her mind wasn’t fully here, lost somewhere I couldn’t quite place.

Dotty filled the silence with stories from her own childhood, her laughter light and infectious as she joked about things that happened years ago. She even mimicked her younger self, crossing her eyes for a moment to make us laugh. But Gracie didn’t seem to notice. She stayed quiet, her shoulders slumped, and her gaze fixed on the cupcakes in front of her as though they held all her thoughts. The more Dotty tried to coax her out of it, the more withdrawn Gracie became, her silence louder than anything Dotty said.

After we’d decorated the last of the cupcakes, the kitchen heavy with the sweetness of frosting and the crumbs from our own indulgence, Dotty looked between Gracie and me. She stood with her hands on her hips, her brow raised in thought.

“All that sugar… we should probably have something real to eat. How does pizza sound?” Dotty asked, trying to keep the energy light.

Gracie barely reacted. Her shoulders gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug, still lost in whatever thoughts she was keeping to herself.

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