Page 20 - Solstice Art & Literary Magazine 2021

CONTINUED
tried to swallow, the thought that maybe he was right. “Is she upstairs?”
The boy shook his head. “Nope! She went home a while ago.” He was speaking too loudly again.
Luther left without finishing dinner.
The front door was locked when he got back. Pep- per had probably picked it to get in—she claimed it was a skill all adventurers should have—and locked it behind her. He just used the key.
Pepper sat on top of the kitchen table surround- ed by her dolls, whispering to them too quietly for Luther to catch a word. A plate of grilled cheese with mush-
SERENITY IN COLTON • MADDIE LIPMAN
rooms and tomatoes sat in front of her. Half was gone. She’d left a long time ago, and he hadn’t even known.
She didn’t look up when he came in, but she hunched over and began scooping her dolls into the giant pocket.
Luther came right up to her. “You should’ve told me you wanted to leave. I would’ve brought you home.” She was shaking her head before he finished,
like she was trying to bat his words away with her ragged ponytail. She didn’t say a word.
“Pepper? What happened?” He put a hand on her shoulder. She twisted away like the contact had physically hurt her.
She slid off the table, scooping Sam up in her arms; the rag doll was too big to fit in her pock- et with the others. She began walking to her room, leaving the sandwich alone on the table, but stopped in the hallway.
“They didn’t want to explore with me. You were wrong.”
“I’m sorry.” He was, but it occurred to him that he’d been saying that an awful lot lately. There wasn’t much else to say.
“I tried to tell them about Glacia,” she said. “They said it wasn’t real. They didn’t believe me.”
Luther stepped forward, arms outstretched. “Oh, Pepper—”
“You don’t believe me either.”
He froze.
Pepper closed her door and locked it behind her. Luther couldn’t tear his eyes away from the
door. It was painted in more colors than he could name, in wild streaks and splotches. And it was closed to him. Everything about Pepper was like that; at once beautifully free and completely restricted.
She’s given up on me, hasn’t she.
But Luther was still her father, and that sand-
wich would get stale if it was left out overnight. He knew that Pepper wouldn’t leave her room when she was this upset.
It felt like the only thing he knew about her was what she wouldn’t do.
He knew there was an open spot in the refrigera- tor where he could store the sandwich for her, but when he opened the refrigerator, that spot had been taken by another plate with another sandwich. Pepper had made two. One with tomato slices and mushroom bits that was half-eaten, and one that was plain cheese. Just the way Luther liked it. He glanced back at the stovetop; the pan had been put away, everything cleaned up and back in its place, like he was always asking of her.
And that was when he knew she hadn’t given up on him.
She’d given up on herself.
He slid Pepper’s sandwich on top of his own and set the plate in the sink; he could deal with it lat- er. He took down the notepad he always had on the refrigerator door and opened it to a fresh page, tak- ing a pen from his pocket and writing across the top.
What did you do in Glacia this afternoon?
He crouched in front of Pepper’s door and slid the notepad under.
Time held its breath. He could hear Pepper shuffling around on the other side of the door, but he couldn’t tell what she was doing.
The notebook slid back. He had to stop him- self from snatching it up the moment it reappeared. It was covered with Pepper’s tight scrawl, tiny words flowing across the page and onto the next one, if the way the paper was bent was anything to go by.
Luther sat with his back against the door. It took a moment before he realized he was smiling; maybe it was small, but it was real. This was real.
He began to read.
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Acrylic Paint • 24”x18”