"Baby, take that off for Daddy," he said, and his voice was too even. "It's not a dress-up shirt."
Elias's face folded. "But I look fancy."
"You always look fancy," Marcus said. "Come on."
Aaliyah did not help. She stood with her back to the white cabinets and the stacked towels and the ironing board, and she watched her husband ease the beige wool off their son's small shoulders. The gold necklace tangled for a moment in Elias's ear. Marcus freed it with a gentleness that would have moved her on any other afternoon. The makeup pouch Elias surrendered last, pressing it into his father's palm with the solemnity of a child returning a borrowed treasure.
"The nice lady said I could try it," Elias offered, hopeful. "She said gold is for kings."
Marcus closed his fingers over the pouch. He did not look at Aaliyah.
"Go put your cars away in the bin," Aaliyah said. Her voice surprised her by sounding almost ordinary. "Then wash your hands for snack."