"About what?"
"About the—" She gestured at the coloring book. "This."
He looked at her then. Directly. "Should I?"
"I thought?—"
"Emily." His voice was even. "You found something that calms you down. You bought it. You're using it." He looked at her quizzically."What exactly did you want me to say about that?"
She looked at the botanical page. At the flower that was half purple now, the pencil lines slightly unsteady at the edges.
"Nothing," she said.
"Then color." He went back to his phone.
She picked up the purple pencil.
Three minutes passed. Maybe five. The kitchen was quiet in a good way. Outside, Clover was barking at something in the yard, otherwise it was quiet. Not in an eerie way, in a nice way.
"What shade is that?" Rampage asked.
She looked at the pencil. "Wisteria."
"Hm." He looked at the page. "I like the way you are staying in the lines, baby. It’s a beautiful picture.”
She was aware, in the careful quiet way she'd been aware of things all week, that this was what it felt like. The thing she'd read about and highlighted and come back to in the dark. A DDlg relationship could be something as simple as your Daddy sitting beside you while you colored in your kitchen in the middle of the afternoon, telling you how good your picture looked.
"Rampage," she said.
"Yeah."
She kept her eyes on the page. "Thank you. For not making it weird."
He was quiet for a moment.
"It's not weird for a little girl to sit at the table with her Daddy and color a picture," he said. “It’s normal.”
She nodded. Kept coloring.
His phone buzzed. He answered it and she tried not to eavesdrop although he was sitting right next to her. He answered briefly and when he hung up his posture had changed slightly, the almost imperceptible shift she was learning to read. Like when the tik appeared in his jaw or when he widened his stance.
"What?" she said.
He looked at her. "Lucky has something on Delling. I need to go to the garage."
"Is it bad?"
"Don't know yet." He stood. "You stay inside."
"I know."
"Emily." He waited until she looked up at him fully. "When I know, you'll know. I told you that."
"Okay."
"Keep coloring." He told her. “You’re doing a great job. I hope you’ll give it to me so I can hang it up on the fridge.”
"Okay," she said again.
