Public Secrets

the cabinet under the sink.
The stale scent was stronger there, old liquor, ripening garbage, molding rags. Brian’s shoes stuck to the linoleum as he crossed to the cupboard, then crouched. He pulled open the door and peered inside.
He couldn’t see the girl clearly, only that she was hunched back in the corner, her blond hair in her eyes and something black hugged in her arms. He felt his stomach turn over, but tried to smile.
“Hello there.”
Emma buried her face in the furry black bundle she held.
“Nasty little brat. I’ll teach you to hide from me.” Jane started to make a grab, but a look from Brian stopped her. He held out a hand and smiled again.
“I don’t think I can fit in there with you. Would you mind coming out a minute?” He saw her peep up over her folded arms. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
He had such a nice voice, Emma thought, soft and pretty like music. He was smiling at her. The light through the kitchen window was on his hair, making the deep, rich blond shine. Like an angel’s hair. She giggled, then crawled out.
Her new dress was smeared and spotted. Her wispy baby hair was damp from a leak under the sink. She smiled, showing little white teeth with a crooked inciser. Brian ran his tongue over a similar one in his own mouth. When her lips curved, a dimple winked at the left corner of her mouth, a twin of his. Eyes as deep and blue as his own stared back at him.
“I fixed her up real nice.” There was a whine in Jane’s voice now. The smell of the gin was making her mouth water, but she was afraid to pour a glass. “And I told her it was important to stay tidy. Didn’t I tell you to stay tidy, Emma? I’ll wash her up.” She grabbed Emma’s arm hard enough to make the girl jump.
“Let her be.”
“I was only going to—”

“Let her be,” Brian repeated, his voice flat and dull and threatening. If he hadn’t been staring at her still, Emma might have dashed under the sink again. His child. For a moment he could only continue to stare at her, his head light and his stomach fisted. “Hello, Emma.” There was a sweetness in his tone now, one women fell in love with. “What have you got there?”
“Charlie. My doggie.” She held the stuffed toy out for Brian to examine.
“And a very nice one.” He had an urge to touch her, to brush his hand over her skin, but held back. “Do you know who I am?”
“From the pictures.” Too young to resist impulses, she reached out to touch his face. “Pretty.”
Johnno laughed and swallowed some gin. “Leave it to a female.”
Ignoring him, Brian tugged on Emma’s damp curls. “You’re pretty, too.”
He talked nonsense to her, watching her closely. His knees were like jelly, and his stomach tightened and loosened like fingers snapping to a beat. Her dimple deepened as she laughed. It was like watching himself. It would have been easier to deny it, and a great deal more convenient, but impossible. Whether he had meant to or not, he had made her. But guidance didn’t come along with acceptance.
He rose and turned to Pete. “We’d better get to rehearsal.”
“You’re leaving?” Jane dashed forward to block his path. “Just like that? You only have to look at her to see.”
“I know what I see.” He felt a pang of guilt as Emma inched back toward the cupboard. “I need time to think.”
“No, no! You’ll walk out like before. You’re only thinking of yourself, like always. What’s best for Brian, what’s best for Brian’s career. I won’t be left back anymore.” He had nearly reached the door when she snatched up Emma and raced after him. “If you go, I’ll kill myself.”
He paused long enough to look back. It was a familiar refrain. He could have set it to music. “That stopped working a long time ago.”
“And her.” Desperate, she flung out the threat, then let it hang as they both considered it. The arm she had banded around Emma’s waist tightened until the girl began to scream.
He felt a bubble of panic as the child’s, his child’s screams bounced off the walls. “Let her go, Jane. You’re hurting her.”

“What do you care?” Jane was sobbing now, her voice rising higher and higher to drown out her daughter’s. “You’re walking out.
“No I’m not. I need a little time to think this through.”
“Time so your fancy manager can make up a story, you mean.” She was breathing fast, gripping the struggling Emma with both arms. “You’re going to do right by me, Brian.”
His