Chapter 8 No.8

Dinner was served at seven sharp.

The dining room was cavernous, lit by a crystal chandelier that cost more than Gloria's life insurance policy. The table could seat twenty.

Gloria sat at one end.

Gustavo sat to her right. He was eating his peas with suspicious enthusiasm, occasionally glancing at the fireplace to make sure the Witch wasn't coming.

Jones's chair was empty.

Gloria frowned. "Mrs. Higgins?"

The nanny stepped out of the shadows. "Yes, Madam?"

"Where is Jones?"

"Master Jones is in his room. He said he is not hungry," Higgins said.

Gloria knew he was hungry. He was a teenager. They were always hungry.

She stood up. "Gustavo, come with me."

Gustavo dropped his fork. "Is it the Witch?"

"No. We are going on a rescue mission," Gloria said.

They marched upstairs. Gloria stopped in front of Jones's door. It was plastered with "Keep Out" signs.

She knocked.

No answer.

She opened the door.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the flicker of a large monitor. Jones was sitting in a gaming chair, headphones on, blasting away at virtual enemies.

He saw them in his peripheral vision and pulled the headset down around his neck.

"What?" he snapped. "I said I'm not hungry."

Gloria pushed Gustavo forward gently.

"We are going to have a family dinner. You are family," she said.

Jones scowled. "I'm busy."

Gloria ignored him. "Gustavo, ask your brother to come."

Gustavo remembered the Witch. He remembered the invisible thread.

"Please come, Jones," Gustavo said dutifully.

Jones hesitated. He looked at the paused game.

Gloria decided to push it. She wanted to bridge the gap.

"And give him a hug," she added.

Jones recoiled as if she had slapped him. "No way."

"Hug!" Gustavo yelled. He was an agent of chaos. He launched himself at Jones.

Gustavo wrapped his sticky arms around Jones's waist.

Jones flinched violently.

His body went rigid. His hands hovered in the air, trembling. He looked terrified.

Gloria saw the flinch. It wasn't just annoyance. It was a trauma response.

A cold realization washed over her. The old Gloria hadn't just ignored him. She must have hit him. Or allowed him to be hit. Or made physical contact something to be feared.

Guilt, sharp and acrid, flooded her chest.

She had pushed too hard.

"Okay, that's enough," she said quickly.

She reached out and pulled Gustavo off gently. "Release the hostage."

Gustavo let go.

Jones took a step back, breathing hard. He adjusted his shirt, trying to regain his composure.

"Just dinner, Jones," Gloria said, softening her voice to a whisper. "No hugs required. I promise."

Jones looked at her. He saw a glimmer of genuine regret in her eyes. It confused him.

He nodded slowly. "Fine. I'll come down."