Matilda’s lower lip dropped and began to tremble. Her eyes got round and watery, and before Therese could say another word, she opened her mouth and let out a scream that splattered against the walls and made Tim come running out of the kitchen to see what had happened. Matilda ran to him and wrapped herself around his leg, but he stood straight and stiff, as though he didn’t know what to do with his arms.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked looking at Therese and then at Matilda, who was howling even louder. He tried to stroke the top of her head but his hand moved like it was made of clay, and the gesture was heavy and awkward. They both looked at Therese, waiting for her to fix things. Matilda’s face was pink and swollen, and Tim’s hand was firmly clamped down on her scalp.

They were lost with no idea how to find their way. Something within her cracked. She let out a deep throaty laugh that sounded like a howl and was so ear piercing that even Barbara got up from the couch to come see what was happening.

“What’s going on in here?” she asked, her voice graveled from an afternoon’s worth of cigarettes.

“Nothing, Ma, I’ll take care of it.” Tim peeled Matilda’s hands off his knee and stood in the middle of the three of them.

“We need to get out of here, Tim. You need to tell her we are leaving.”

“Timmy you can’t let her act this way. Tell her to shut her mouth.” Barbara pointed at Therese and then crossed her arms in front of her chest.

But Tim didn’t move.

She wasn’t sure how long they stood that way, trapped in some oddly perverse triangle. Most of the time she could keep it at bay, but at this moment the image of the father she had never known poked so hard at her, it became difficult to breathe. She shook her head and closed her eyes, desperately willing Tim to stand by her side, but still he did nothing.

She wanted to scream, to yell at the top of her lungs that she needed him to choose her because the thought of not being important enough was too much for her to bear. He stood motionless, frozen in indecision. She turned away and told herself it was because she felt pity for him, but she knew it was more. She couldn’t bear to see whom he would have chosen if just one more minute of time had been permitted to pass.