If anything, she looked like one of the starving children in Hungary she had heard so much about when she didn't finish her dinner. But nonetheless the whipped cream never came her way again. And she knew better than anyone that it was because she didn't deserve it. She had driven her mother to a frenzy the night before. There was no doubt in her mind that the ravages of the night before were probably her own fault, no matter how little she understood it.
They stayed at the Plaza until late that afternoon, greeting friends and observing strangers. It was a fun place to go for lunch, and normally Gabriella would have enjoyed it, but today she couldn't. She was in too much pain, and she was relieved when they left finally, to go home. Her father had already gone outside to find a taxi and Gabriella hung back a little bit, moving slowly, watching her mother stroll elegantly across the lobby. Heads turned as she walked past, as they always did, and Gabriella watched her in awe and silent hatred. If she was so beautiful, why couldn't she be nice as well? It was one of those mysteries to which Gabriella knew she would never have the answer. And as she walked out of the hotel, thinking about it, she stumbled for just an instant and accidentally stepped ever so lightly on the toe of her mother's black suede shoe. Gabriella shuddered inside as she did it, and her mother reacted even more quickly. She stopped dead in her tracks, stared at Gabriella with contempt, and pointed to her shoe in silent outrage.
“Fix that,” she said in a growling undervoice that made her sound like the voice of the devil, at least to Gabriella. Her mother was pointing at her shoe, with an imperiousness that would have startled anyone who heard her, but as usual, no one seemed to notice.
“I'm sorry, Mommy.” Her eyes were bottomless pools of regret and sorrow.
“Do something about it,” her mother snarled, but Gabriella had nothing to fix the black suede with except her fingers, and she began rubbing frantically in order to eliminate the offending dust spot. She thought of using her dress, but that would make her mother even angrier… or her sweater… There had to be something, but there wasn't. There didn't appear to be an available handkerchief, or even a bit of tissue. So Gabriella did the best she could with her nimble little fingers. And on closer inspection, it appeared that the smudge was gone, but Eloise refused to believe it when Gabriella said so. She made her clean the shoe again and again, kneeling on the pavement outside the hotel to do it. “Don't ever do that again. Do you understand?” she said harshly to Gabriella, as the child said a silent prayer of thanks that she had been able to remove the spot. If she hadn't, there would surely have been another beating, or perhaps there still would be. The day was young yet.
They took a cab back to their house after that, and Gabriella's intense pain grew worse with each passing moment. She was as white as a sheet, and her hands trembled as she folded them quietly, hoping her mother wouldn't see them before they got home. But for some reason, Eloise was in good spirits for a change, and although she wasn't pleasant to Gabriella, considering the scene of the night before, she was surprisingly civil to her husband. She didn't apologize for anything, she never did. As far as she was concerned, she didn't have to. In her mind, their argument of the night before was entirely his fault, and nothing she had to apologize for or explain.
She sent Gabriella to her room almost as soon as they got home. She hated finding her afoot, or wandering around the house for no apparent reason. She preferred to see her confined to a small space, sitting on a chair in her room, keeping out of trouble. And Gabriella meant to do just that. She didn't want to provoke her any further. So Gabriella went to her room, and stayed there. She had nothing to do, but she was in so much pain, she couldn't have done anything, if they'd asked her. But as she sat in her room, she couldn't help thinking about Meredith, the doll that had been demolished the night before. She genuinely missed her. Meredith had been her only friend her