phantom dog in Flash fiction

(went on a trip this weekend and wrote about fifteen minutes of this on my kindle on the ferry, then got so very seasick. Did twentyish minutes editing just now. I don't really like this one. Word count: no)

Dad gets to his feet and shoves his chair aside. "Which one of you is it? I'll not be made a fool of at my own table."

"It's mom's table too!" Tiny shoots back, because she can't let anything slide.

"What is it, Hon?" Leila asks.

"It's them.. under the table. Touching me with something."

"Something...?" She lifts the tablecloth, looks to the twins. They lift their hands in unison, palms clean. They are the picture of innocence. Leila looks at my Dad. He sits back down.

"It's exactly like that damn mutt used to do. Nosing at me, every minute. They're driving me nuts."

Oh no he didn't. Jack slams his palms on the table. "That damn mutt?"

"Why would you say that?" echoes Tiny. "Mom?"

Leila' s mouth moves. These days I can practically hear her tearing in two.

"Maybe it is Molly," Jack says. "It's been eight months, maybe they finally put her down."

"Don't say that!" Tiny wails. "Mom?"

"I hope she haunts you every mealtime for the rest of your life," Jack continues.

"Tiny, sweetie, you know Molly was re-homed. I called the shelter, like you guys asked."

Tiny looks at her mother, then her brother. Jack shrugs.

Just then Dad jumps up again. "Damnit! It's not fucking funny, you guys!"

There is the marked silence that always follows an outbreak of swearing. His chair balances precariously behind him, then falls over. I almost laugh. Luckily no-one is looking at me.

That does it, the swearing. "Tiny, Jack," Leila begins.

"We haven't done anything!" they shout.

It won't help. Leila will send them to their room and they will yell and say terrible things. The twins are vicious with their mother, more so than with my Dad. He is just the villain, but she is supposed to be on their side, no matter what. Yeah, right.

When they have stomped away upstairs Dad will go and sulk in the tv room, and Leila will follow him. She will go carefully, like a kicked puppy.

I hate all of them. In the midst of Jack's tirade, I go floppy and slide down in my chair until I am sitting under the table. Nobody notices, of course.

The phantom dog turns around and licks my hot cheeks. I listen to its tail thumping against the table leg until the room is empty. Then I climb back up in my chair and continue to eat in silence.