Page 42 of The Seduction

“Bugging is bugging. B is fine. She’s sitting right here, listening to me play.”

“You don’t even do things with her. You’re so selfish. It’s all about you, isn’t it, Gault? Always all about you.”

This time, Bliss had figured out how to turn off Gault’s phone. She wanted her father’s attention all to herself. She sat in a state of pure happiness as his hands roamed up and down the piano keys.

“Gotta ask you something, B.”

At first she thought he was working out words to a song. It took her a moment to realize he was talking to her.

“What, Papa?”

“It’s a question that’s for a big girl, not a little one like you. So it’s going to be hard to answer. I just want you to know whatever you say is okay. All right? You don’t have to worry about hurting anyone’s feelings. Not me, not your mom. You can say whatever you want.”

Even though Bliss was only six, she knew that wasn’t at all true. She managed to hurt her mother’s feelings all the time. She didn’t want to, it just happened. But she nodded anyway.

“I’m wondering about you living with your mom. I’d like it if you lived here with me more. But if you don’t want that, I won’t think about it anymore. Do you understand?”

No. She didn’t understand anything. Not live with her mom? What did that even mean? Like, she wouldn’t see her anymore? “Can I still see Mommy?”

“Of course. Here’s the thing, B. I’d like to get your mom some help. It would be better for everyone, especially you. Then she could come back and be in a better mood.”

That sounded nice. When her mom was in a good mood, the world shone like a pearl. When she was in a bad mood, Bliss would bury herself under the covers and will herself to go to sleep. She wouldn’t come out no matter how hungry she got. Once she even wet herself because she was too afraid to come out.

“Can I go with her to get help? She likes to have me with her.”

“I know she does, B. But this time, she couldn’t have anyone else with her. It’s something she has to do alone.”

Oh no. That sounded terrible. Mommy hated being alone. She didn’t even like it when Bliss went to school. She always talked about home-schooling. That was why Bliss had a perfect record at school, because she was so afraid that Mommy wouldn’t let her go anymore. “She won’t like that,” she whispered to her father.

He played a line of notes on the piano. “Not at first, no. But maybe later she will. It’s good to know how to be alone.”

“I like being alone. But I’m not really alone because I always have Beatrice and Nicholas.” They were her imaginary friends. They went with her everywhere. They had amazing adventures together, the three of them.

“That’s right, you always have them. You always have me, too. So what do you think? Do you and Beatrice and Nicholas want to stay here longer?”

Bliss thought about it for a long time. As nice as it sounded that her mom would be in a good mood, she didn’t really believe that would happen. That would be like the tide not coming in, or the sun not rising one morning. “I have to watch out for Mommy,” she told her father seriously. “She needs me to live with her.”

“Sure, sure.” Gault was listening to her carefully. He was the only adult she knew who treated her like someone who could understand things. “But do you think that’s maybe a big job for a kid? Maybe there’s someone who could make it easier?”

“Like who? Someone magic?“ She glanced up at her father, at the long wild black hair, the purple stovepipe hat that he wore even inside, the tattoos winding around his neck. He was magic. She’d always thought so.

“I guess you could say it like that.”

She thought about it some more. “Okay,” she agreed. “If my Mommy says it’s okay.”

She heard him sigh, then mumble something to himself. It might have been a profanity, because he always managed to keep those quiet, or at least bury them under a ripple of piano notes.

“One more thing, B. I’m always here and if you want to come here, I’m always happy for that. No matter what.”

“But Mommy says you’re too busy to be a real father.” She felt bad as soon as she said it, but then she kept going. “She says real fathers don’t go on stages and sing and play music and sleep around. I think that means when you curl yourself into a ball to go to sleep. I do that, but fathers aren’t supposed to do that.”

“Well, kid, the way I see it is, a father isn’t someone who comes out of a box looking a certain way, batteries not included. A father is someone who loves their child, and I love you so much. More than this piano, more than all the pianos, more than all the stages in the entire world. I just want to do the right thing for you.”

She heard something deeper in his voice, something that made her wonder if he was about to cry. So she hugged her arms around his waist and buried her face in his side. His frame was wiry; all that nervous energy made it impossible for him to keep weight on. She didn’t know that until later on, of course. At the time, she felt the taut strength of tendons and muscles, and felt like her father was a rock. The kind of rock that flew through space on fire, like the meteorites she’d learned about at school.

“I love you too, Papa.” She remembered then that she’d done something secret. “I turned your phone off when you weren’t looking. Are you mad?”

He searched for his phone and laughed. “Nope. I like it better when it’s off.” He turned it on and groaned. “Six calls from your mother. Not bad.”

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