I thought about surprising Sophia with ice cream or taking her to the bookstore. We hadn't spent an afternoon together in weeks, and I wanted to change that.
I drove through familiar streets under a pale afternoon sky, feeling unusually lighthearted. I even stopped at a bakery and bought the chocolate cookies Sophia loved.
When I entered the house, everything seemed quiet.
Patricia's car wasn't in the driveway.
The living room was clean.
The kitchen counters were empty.
I called Sophia's name.
No answer.
Then I heard water splashing.
And that sound led me to the laundry room.
I sat on the tile floor beside my daughter.
My suit trousers immediately became damp, but I didn't care. Sophia had stopped washing the clothes, though she still held one wet sleeve between her fingers as if she couldn't bring herself to put it down.
I gently moved the basin aside.
"Look at me, sweetheart."
She lifted her eyes.
"You're not in trouble."
Her mouth trembled.
"Are you sure?"
I felt my chest tighten.
"Yes."
She looked toward the doorway.
"Patricia says you get upset when I don't finish my chores."
I stared at her.
"She told you that?"
Sophia nodded.
"She says you work hard and I have to help."
I took a breath.
Helping around the house was normal.
Sophia had always had small responsibilities appropriate for her age. She put away toys, helped clear the table, and sometimes folded towels while we watched television.
But this wasn't helping.
This was a child kneeling on a floor, washing adult clothing by hand while modern machines sat unused beside her.
I looked at the clothes.
"Who told you to wash these?"
"Patricia."
"Why?"
Sophia hesitated.
"She said I ruined the laundry last week."
"What happened?"
"I put my pink sweater with the white towels."
I frowned.
"Did the colors run?"
She nodded.
"A little."
I thought about the towels.
I'd seen them in the linen closet.
They were perfectly usable.
I looked back at my daughter.
"So Patricia told you that you couldn't use the machine anymore?"
Sophia nodded.
"She said I had to learn."
I swallowed.
"How long has this been happening?"
She stared at the basin.
"I don't remember."
I felt something sharp move through my chest.
"Days? Weeks?"
She hesitated.
Then whispered, "A long time."
I looked at her hands.
The irritated skin wasn't the result of one afternoon.
I could see that now.
I gently lifted one hand.
Sophia flinched.
I immediately loosened my grip.
"Does it hurt?"
She nodded.
I looked toward the open doorway.
Then back at her.
"We're stopping."
Her eyes widened.