Page 19 of Hold You Close
“Then there’s your answer. I like to think of her as a raccoon you need to stay ten feet away from because she’ll bite you in the ass.”
“Whatever,” Morgan says as she rolls her eyes. “Look, Ruby won’t come out of her room.”
“Still?” I ask.
Of all the people in the world the kid will talk to, why does it have to be London?
“I’ll go try,” I say. I was just the big man of the house a few minutes ago, and I’m going to do it again. I own today, and these kids need to see who is boss.
This guy.
I march upstairs to the guest room where I put Ruby.
“Ruby.” I call her name. When she doesn’t come to the door, I open it. She sits up on the bed, and her big blue eyes meet mine. “Do you want to eat?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Are you thirsty?” I go for another question.
Again with the head shake.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” I ask, praying it’s anything but that damn purple dinosaur. I swear, Morgan made me sit through hours of that when she was a kid, and I never wished for a meteor to hit Earth more than I did at that time. I would’ve done anything to put myself out of my misery, but she cried the second the DVD ended, until I started it again.
Ruby nods.
At least we’re getting somewhere now.
“Okay, well, you have to tell me what you want to watch.”
I decide this time I’m not giving her a yes or no question. Maybe I can get her to talk by not giving an option.
Ruby hops out of bed, takes my hand, and leads me down to where all the movies are.
“Ruby, you have to tell me,” I try again. “I need you to talk instead of show me.”
Her lip starts to tremble and tears form.
Fuck.
“No, no, no, don’t cry. It’s okay.” I pat her shoulders. “Ruby, you don’t have to talk, just show Uncle Ian what you want.”
I see it coming like a tidal wave. I can’t stop it. I can’t do anything to prepare for it because there isn’t time.
The tears fall down her cheeks and a sobbing sound escapes this tiny person.
Holy fucking hell, she has a set of pipes.
The sound is a mix of a siren and some kind of animal in excruciating pain. I look to Morgan who stands there, shell-shocked. “Morgan! What do I do?” I yell to her.
“I don’t know!” she replies.
Helpful.
I get down on my knees in front of my weeping little niece. “Ruby, baby, don’t cry. I’m right here.” I try to gather her in my arms, thinking I’ve seen parents do this—they offer comfort by embracing them.
Another wail comes out as soon as I touch her, piercing the room. I wince and go for another tactic.
“Okay.” I move away from her. “No touching, got it. If you want to cry, that’s fine. I get it. Crying is helpful, right?”
