Chương 7
“Daniel.”
It was not a question.
He nodded once.
“Rachel.”
Her eyes moved briefly to his face, studying something he could not see.
“Come inside.”
He almost refused.
The invitation felt too easy.
He had prepared himself for anger.
For denial.
For some complicated explanation that would make him fight for every answer.
Instead, she simply stepped aside.
The house smelled like coffee and laundry detergent.
A normal smell.
The kind of smell that belonged to ordinary evenings.
It made Daniel uncomfortable.
He wanted his father’s house to feel strange.
He wanted proof that he had been right to stay away.
Rachel closed the door behind him.
“Do you want something to drink?”
“No.”
She nodded.
“Your father says that too.”
Daniel looked at her.
“He talks about me?”
Rachel looked toward the kitchen.
“He talks about you less than he should.”
The answer landed harder than an apology would have.
Daniel followed her into the living room.
There were photographs on the shelves.
He noticed them before he could stop himself.
A younger Rachel standing beside Thomas.
Thomas with gray hair.
Thomas laughing at something outside the frame.
Daniel did not see himself anywhere.
The absence felt like another object in the room.
“He’s not here,” Rachel said.
Daniel looked back at her.
“I figured.”
“He went to the store.”
Daniel almost laughed.
“The store?”
Rachel gave a small smile.
“I know.”
She sat down.
“He found out yesterday that someone was repairing the old house.”
Daniel remained standing.
“You knew about the letter.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
The honesty irritated him.
“Why?”
Rachel looked at her hands.
“Because it wasn’t mine to tell.”
“That didn’t stop anyone else.”
A silence followed.
Not an angry silence.
A tired one.
Rachel nodded slowly.
“No.”
Daniel looked away.
He hated that she did not fight back.
It left him nowhere to place his anger.
“How long have you known about me?”
“Since before I met him.”
That surprised him.
“Before?”
Rachel leaned back.
“Your father never stopped talking about you.”
Daniel stared at her.
“Then why didn’t he call?”
Rachel looked toward the hallway.
“He did.”
The answer froze him.
“What?”
“He called your house.”
Daniel felt his stomach tighten.
“My house?”
“Years ago.”
“When?”
Rachel shook her head.
“I don’t know every time.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“But you know there were times.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Rachel looked at him carefully.
“Because every time he called, your mother answered.”
The room seemed smaller.
Daniel looked at the photographs again.
His mind searched through old memories.
The phone ringing.
His mother picking up.
Her expression changing.
Her walking into another room.
He had seen those things.
He had never connected them.
“She told me he didn’t want to talk to me.”
Rachel closed her eyes briefly.
“I know.”
Daniel felt anger return.
This time it was quieter.
More dangerous.
“Did he believe that?”
Rachel did not answer immediately.
“No.”
The single word hurt more than he expected.
“Then what did he believe?”
“That you hated him.”
Daniel looked down.
A strange laugh escaped him.
“He thought I hated him?”
Rachel nodded.
“He thought he ruined your life.”
Daniel wanted to reject it.
He wanted to say that was ridiculous.
That his father had made the choice.
That adults were responsible for their own mistakes.
But the memory of the man fixing radios came back.
The smell of oil on his hands.
The way he always checked Daniel’s homework even when he barely understood the math.
The way he stood outside the school auditorium after every performance.
Even the ones where Daniel barely had a line.
“Where did he go?” Daniel asked.
Rachel looked toward the window.
“He walks when he’s nervous.”
Daniel almost smiled.
“He used to do that.”
“You remember?”
The question annoyed him.
“Of course I remember.”
Rachel’s expression softened.
“He didn’t know if you did.”
Daniel sat down for the first time.
The anger was still there.
But it had nowhere to stand.
Outside, someone started a lawn mower.
The sound drifted through the neighborhood, completely unrelated to the collapse happening inside the house.
Daniel watched the curtains move slightly from the air vent.
He thought about how many people were living ordinary lives while carrying things nobody else could see.
It was a thought he would have dismissed a week ago.
Now it felt obvious.
“When is he coming back?”
Rachel looked at the clock.
“Probably soon.”
“Does he know I’m here?”
“No.”
Daniel looked toward the door.
A strange fear moved through him.
Not fear of his father.
Fear of what would happen if the door opened.
For years, he had imagined seeing Thomas Mercer again.
In every version, Daniel was prepared.
He would say exactly the right things.
He would ask the right questions.
He would not let emotion take control.
Standing in that living room, he realized how little control he actually had.
The front door opened.
Rachel stood.
“Thomas.”
A voice answered from the hallway.
“Did you buy the milk?”
Daniel heard footsteps.
Then his father appeared.
The first thing Daniel noticed was that Thomas looked smaller.
Not physically.
Something else.
The confidence he remembered was gone.
His hair was white.
His shoulders leaned slightly forward.
He carried a grocery bag in one hand.
Then he saw Daniel.
The bag slipped.
A carton of milk hit the floor.
Neither of them moved.
Thomas looked at him like he was seeing someone from a dream he was afraid to wake from.
“Daniel.”
Daniel had imagined this moment for twenty years.
He had prepared anger.
He had prepared accusations.
He had prepared silence.
What came out instead was something much smaller.
“Hi, Dad.”
Thomas covered his mouth with one hand.
The reaction embarrassed Daniel.
It felt too vulnerable.
Too exposed.
Thomas looked away quickly and bent down to pick up the milk.
His hands were shaking.
“I’m sorry.”
Daniel looked at him.
“For what?”
Thomas stopped.
May you like
The question seemed to hurt him.
“For a lot of things.”
