Chương 7
The old fear returned.
The same feeling she had when she opened the letter.
Another hidden door.
Another piece of a life she thought she understood.
“What things?”
A long pause followed.
Then Thomas said, “Things your mother never told you about the night I left.”
Mara looked toward the hallway.
At the bedrooms where her children slept.
At the house she had spent years trying to keep safe.
And for the first time, she wondered whether safety had been the reason she was never allowed to know the truth.
Or whether it had only been the excuse.
The call ended without either of them saying goodbye.
Mara kept the phone against her ear for several seconds after the line went quiet.
She listened to nothing.
Not static.
Not breathing.
Nothing.
Then she lowered the phone and placed it on the table as carefully as if it might break.
She sat there until her legs started to ache.
The strange thing was that she did not feel like someone who had just discovered a family secret.
She felt like someone who had discovered a crack in a wall and realized the entire house had been leaning on it.
For years, she had believed the hardest thing about her father was losing him.
Now she wondered if the hardest thing had been never knowing what she lost.
The front door opened.
“Mara?”
She turned quickly.
Eli stood there holding a paper bag from the coffee shop near his apartment.
He looked tired.
Not exhausted.
Just worn down in a way that made him seem older.
“I thought you might forget breakfast,” he said.
She stared at him.
“You brought me coffee?”
“Don’t make it weird.”
A small smile touched her face.
“I’m not making it weird.”
“You are absolutely making it weird.”
He placed the cup in front of her.
“I got the one you like.”
Mara looked at the coffee.
The simple kindness almost broke her.
“Thank you.”
Eli sat across from her.
“You talked to him.”
It was not a question.
Mara looked up.
“How did you know?”
“You have the same face you had when Dad’s doctor called.”
She looked away.
“That obvious?”
“To me.”
The answer carried no pride.
Only familiarity.
Mara wrapped her hands around the cup.
“I spoke to my father.”
Eli stayed still.
“What was he like?”
The question surprised her.
Not what did he say.
Not why did he leave.
What was he like.
She looked at her son.
“I don’t know.”
Eli nodded slowly.
“That’s probably the worst part.”
“Yes.”
He looked toward the window.
“You spent your whole life missing someone you never got to know.”
Mara swallowed.
“I thought I knew why.”
“And now?”
She looked at the notebook.
“Now I think I only knew the version I was given.”
Eli leaned forward.
“Did he tell you Grandma lied?”
Mara hesitated.
“He told me there were things I didn’t know.”
“That’s not the same.”
“No.”
“Did you believe him?”
She wanted to answer quickly.
She wanted to say no.
She wanted to say yes.
She wanted to choose a side because uncertainty was exhausting.
Instead, she said, “I don’t know.”
Eli nodded.
“Good.”
She frowned.
“Good?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because if you suddenly knew exactly who was right, I’d worry you were doing the same thing again.”
Mara looked at him.
“What thing?”
“Taking someone else’s version and making it yours before you have all the pieces.”
The words were not cruel.
That was what made them impossible to ignore.
She looked down at the coffee.
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
The softness in his voice made her chest tighten.
“But trying doesn’t mean nobody gets hurt.”
Mara nodded.
“I know that too.”
For a moment they sat quietly.
Not because there was nothing to say.
Because there was too much.
Then Eli reached toward the notebook.
“Can I read it?”
Mara’s hand moved over it instinctively.
The movement was small.
But Eli noticed.
She saw the disappointment cross his face.
Not anger.
Not suspicion.
A reminder.
She was still protecting something.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He pulled his hand back.
“I didn’t mean to pressure you.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you apologizing?”
Mara looked at the notebook.
“Because I almost did it again.”
Eli did not ask what she meant.
He already knew.
She opened the notebook and pushed it toward him.
“You can read it.”
He looked surprised.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
That made him smile slightly.
“At least that’s honest.”
He picked up the notebook.
Neither of them read for several minutes.
They sat together at the kitchen table, turning pages of a life that had existed before either of them understood it.
When Eli reached the entries about Thomas, his expression changed.
He did not react dramatically.
That was not who he was.
He became quieter.
More careful.
After a while, he closed the notebook.
“Grandpa knew.”
Mara looked at him.
“What?”
“Your grandfather.”
She stared.
“How do you know?”
“Because Grandma wrote it.”
He turned the notebook around.
“She said Robert told her Thomas was unstable.”
Mara frowned.
“Unstable?”
Eli nodded.
“She wrote that he convinced her Thomas would hurt you.”
Mara felt cold.
“That’s not what she told me.”
“No.”
Eli looked at her.
“She told you he left.”
Mara stood.
The room felt like it was moving too quickly.
“My grandfather raised me.”
“I know.”
“He loved me.”
“I know.”
She looked at him sharply.
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
Eli closed the notebook.
“I don’t.”
The honesty stopped her.
Because there it was again.
Nobody was giving her an easy answer.
Nobody was telling her who to hate.
Everyone was just handing her pieces and asking her to live with the uncertainty.
“I need to talk to Thomas again,” she said.
Eli watched her.
“Are you going to ask him about the night he left?”
“Yes.”
“Are you ready for the answer?”
Mara looked toward the hallway.
“No.”
May you like
The admission felt strange.
But it was true.
