Chapter 7 - The Ledger of Sacrifices
Brenda remained seated, though her composure was utterly shattered. The small Maltese dog, sensing the hostile atmosphere, jumped down from the wooden chair and hid beneath the sideboard, whining softly. Brenda stood up, her red silk blouse trembling along with her hands.
"You embarrassed me!" she hissed, trying desperately to summon her usual indignation to mask her terror. "In front of my family! You treat me like a criminal because I wanted one clean, civilized meal without your senile father drooling all over the table!"
Thomas stared at her. It was as if he were seeing her true face for the first time in seven years. The silk, the gold, the delicate makeup—all of it was merely a gilded veneer stretched over a hollow, rotting soul.
"Look at this chair," Thomas said quietly, gesturing toward the carved walnut seat where the dog had sat. "Do you know where it came from?"
Brenda swallowed, her throat dry. She remained silent.
"My father built this set," Thomas continued, his voice dropping into a rhythmic, solemn cadence. "He worked twelve-hour shifts at the rail yard, and on weekends, he salvaged walnut timber to carve this dining set by hand. He gave it to me when I graduated, because he said a man's home should always have a place where his family can gather with dignity."
He walked over to the chair, his fingertips trailing across the smooth, varnished grain of the armrest.
"His hands shake today because thirty years ago, an industrial crane cable snapped. He held a falling girder with a crowbar long enough for three apprentices to crawl out from under the collapse. The steel crushed his wrist and damaged his spine. That is why he shakes, Brenda. That is why he cannot always hold a spoon steady."
Thomas looked up, his eyes piercing straight through her.
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"Every penny of the down payment for this house came from his worker's compensation settlement, which he gave to me without keeping a single cent for himself. You wear that red silk, you wear that gold chain, and you walk upon these polished floors only because Arthur broke his body so we could stand upright."
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