like a compulsion.
“Can I . . . ,” she says, her hands outstretched.
“Yes,” he says.
She reaches into the box and careful y lifts the necklace out by the chain. The gem feels impossibly light for its size.
She holds it up and the gem spins slowly. The burgundy color seems to throb from deep within, softening even the harsh white kitchen light with its warm glow.
“It—It’s beautiful,” she says.
“Yes.”
“Oh, Dad . . . this . . . this is the best present I’ve ever .
. .”
She looks at him and she must be getting soft because there are suddenly tears in her eyes.
“I’m glad you like it,” he says, giving her a tight, forced smile.
“And . . . she . . . wanted me to have this? She said so?”
“She made me swear that I would give it to you when you turned sixteen,” he said. “And so I have.”
The chain is al one piece, with no clasp. But it’s long enough for Jael to slip over her head. Her hands are shaking as she goes to put it on.
“No!” Her father lunges across the table and grabs her wrist, hard.
She stares first at his hand clenched around her wrist, then at the violent clash of emotions on his face. She almost doesn’t recognize him.
“Dad?” she whispers.
She watches the realization of what he’s done wash over him. He releases her hand, then slowly sits back in his chair. He stares at his hand, like he can’t believe it’s his.
“I’m sorry,” he says, almost to himself. For just a moment, there is something dark and broken in his eyes. Then his face slides back to neutral. “You can’t wear the necklace.”
“What do you mean I can’t wear it? Not at al ?”
“No. It’s not . . . safe.”
“So why did you give it to me?”
“Because I promised I would.”
“But how is it dangerous?”
“You are not to wear it. End of discussion.”
She cups the gem in her hands and stares into its dark, impenetrable center. “I can’t believe this,” she says, at first more to herself. Then she looks up at him. “I can’t believe . . . you.”
She presses her thumbs onto the gem, rubbing them back and forth like a worry stone. “You final y give me something from my mother. After sixteen years, final y.
Something.” She looks back down at the necklace. “I would have taken anything, you know,” she says softly.
“A picture, a piece of clothing, a letter. It didn’t have to be a thing, even. I would have been happy with a few stories about her. You always refuse to talk about her.
I mean, are you so ashamed of my mother? Of what she was?”
“Of course not. You don’t understand—”
“How can I, when you won’t tel me anything? I don’t even know what she looked like. . . .” She presses the gem to her chest as a white-hot rage crawls up her spine. The anger feels good.
It makes her feel strong. Powerful. Justified. She looks back at him, staring hard into his eyes. “And now you give me this necklace. The one thing I can have of my mother. But I can’t wear it, and you won’t even tel me why.”
“Jael, it’s complicated. I don’t think—”
“No.” Jael stands up, clutching the necklace in her fist.
“Go to hel , Dad.”
She runs out of the kitchen. He yel s something after her but she’s just trying to hold back the tears until she’s up the spiral staircase and safely locked in her room.
Jael lies in bed, dangling her necklace in front of her eyes, staring absently into its dark, cloudy center.
She cried for a little while. Then she tried to cal Britt, but the number was busy. Her stupid old computer wouldn’t even boot up, so e-mail was out. By the time she’d gone through al that, she was tired. She decided that she wasn’t going to do homework. It was her birthday present to herself. She got in her pj’s and went to bed ridiculously early. So there.
But now she can’t sleep. The window is open next to her bed, and she can hear the cool early evening wind rustle through the leaves outside. There’s a
“Can I . . . ,” she says, her hands outstretched.
“Yes,” he says.
She reaches into the box and careful y lifts the necklace out by the chain. The gem feels impossibly light for its size.
She holds it up and the gem spins slowly. The burgundy color seems to throb from deep within, softening even the harsh white kitchen light with its warm glow.
“It—It’s beautiful,” she says.
“Yes.”
“Oh, Dad . . . this . . . this is the best present I’ve ever .
. .”
She looks at him and she must be getting soft because there are suddenly tears in her eyes.
“I’m glad you like it,” he says, giving her a tight, forced smile.
“And . . . she . . . wanted me to have this? She said so?”
“She made me swear that I would give it to you when you turned sixteen,” he said. “And so I have.”
The chain is al one piece, with no clasp. But it’s long enough for Jael to slip over her head. Her hands are shaking as she goes to put it on.
“No!” Her father lunges across the table and grabs her wrist, hard.
She stares first at his hand clenched around her wrist, then at the violent clash of emotions on his face. She almost doesn’t recognize him.
“Dad?” she whispers.
She watches the realization of what he’s done wash over him. He releases her hand, then slowly sits back in his chair. He stares at his hand, like he can’t believe it’s his.
“I’m sorry,” he says, almost to himself. For just a moment, there is something dark and broken in his eyes. Then his face slides back to neutral. “You can’t wear the necklace.”
“What do you mean I can’t wear it? Not at al ?”
“No. It’s not . . . safe.”
“So why did you give it to me?”
“Because I promised I would.”
“But how is it dangerous?”
“You are not to wear it. End of discussion.”
She cups the gem in her hands and stares into its dark, impenetrable center. “I can’t believe this,” she says, at first more to herself. Then she looks up at him. “I can’t believe . . . you.”
She presses her thumbs onto the gem, rubbing them back and forth like a worry stone. “You final y give me something from my mother. After sixteen years, final y.
Something.” She looks back down at the necklace. “I would have taken anything, you know,” she says softly.
“A picture, a piece of clothing, a letter. It didn’t have to be a thing, even. I would have been happy with a few stories about her. You always refuse to talk about her.
I mean, are you so ashamed of my mother? Of what she was?”
“Of course not. You don’t understand—”
“How can I, when you won’t tel me anything? I don’t even know what she looked like. . . .” She presses the gem to her chest as a white-hot rage crawls up her spine. The anger feels good.
It makes her feel strong. Powerful. Justified. She looks back at him, staring hard into his eyes. “And now you give me this necklace. The one thing I can have of my mother. But I can’t wear it, and you won’t even tel me why.”
“Jael, it’s complicated. I don’t think—”
“No.” Jael stands up, clutching the necklace in her fist.
“Go to hel , Dad.”
She runs out of the kitchen. He yel s something after her but she’s just trying to hold back the tears until she’s up the spiral staircase and safely locked in her room.
Jael lies in bed, dangling her necklace in front of her eyes, staring absently into its dark, cloudy center.
She cried for a little while. Then she tried to cal Britt, but the number was busy. Her stupid old computer wouldn’t even boot up, so e-mail was out. By the time she’d gone through al that, she was tired. She decided that she wasn’t going to do homework. It was her birthday present to herself. She got in her pj’s and went to bed ridiculously early. So there.
But now she can’t sleep. The window is open next to her bed, and she can hear the cool early evening wind rustle through the leaves outside. There’s a
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