Page 45 of Caged

Following the noise of my happy little girl, I find her and Melissa sitting on the couch watching a cartoon on the television.

“Hi, Daddy!” She waves without pulling her gaze from the screen.

“Want to watch with us?” Melissa holds up an oversized bowl still half full of their movie snack.

They look cozy, each snuggled under their own blanket.

Almost like a family.

No. I need to stop thinking like that.

I wave my hand towards my office. “You girls go ahead. I have some stuff to catch up on.”

“Uh oh,” Elena whines. “Please? It’s almost the best part.” She scoots herself up against the arm, creating enough space between her and Melissa for me to fit.

I’m not sure how I feel about this as I squeeze between them.

The heat of Melissa’s body radiates through the thin quilt where she presses against my arm and thigh.

“Make any progress today?” she asks quietly.

My head shakes as I pretend to focus on the bright colors of the show. “Knox seems to have a Russian that is helping him stay one step ahead of us.”

“Do you know him?” She turns to watch me. “You’re from there, too, right?”

“I am, but that doesn’t mean I know everyone there,” I chuckle softly. “And, I didn’t get out much.”

“Strict parents?” She pops a few kernels in her mouth before offering some.

Grabbing a big handful, I take a moment to weigh my reply.

How do I tell her my father is more than controlling, he is manipulative. Conniving. And a sadist who loves inflicting pain without reason.

“You could say that. My father is a very powerful man, so kept a firm grip on us growing up.” Chewing on the hard kernels drowns out the squeaky voices from the cartoon.

“Us?” Her wide eyes blink and she tilts her head.

“Yeah, my siblings.” I’m not sure how much more I should tell her.

“You mean Aunt Lara and Uncle Mikhail?” Elena pipes up then holds out her hand towards the popcorn. “More, please.”

Shit.

Melissa’s mouth makes a perfect “o”. “Well…that’s interesting.” She readjusts, tucking her feet under her. “Lara is your sister?”

I run my hand over my face and try not to grit my teeth.“Yes.”

Why do children always say whatever they’re thinking? When I was small, I never spoke out of turn. But, that was also the consequence of my father’s whip.

Melissa lets out a long sigh. “I’m glad she’s related.”

That took a turn.

“Really? Why?”

She fidgets with the blanket again. “Well, I was kinda wondering who that woman was that you called in the middle of the night.”

I start laughing, only to be shushed by my scowling daughter.