Part 8
“Is Vanessa coming back?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
“She may need to collect her things when you’re not here.”
Mia pulled the quilt higher.
“Does she hate me?”
Daniel’s instinct was to say no.
He stopped.
“I don’t know what she feels right now.”
Mia looked frightened by uncertainty.
He continued, “I know she said things that were wrong. I know none of this is your fault. I know you do not have to see her unless a therapist helps us decide it would be good for you.”
“What’s a therapist?”
“Someone whose job is to help us talk about things that hurt.”
“Like Grandma?”
“Grandma does it for free and gives too much advice.”
A faint smile touched Mia’s mouth.
Daniel leaned his head against the side of the bed.
“Did Vanessa tell you not to tell me?”
Mia nodded.
“What exactly did she say?”
Her eyes moved toward the door.
Daniel kept his voice even.
“You can stop whenever you want.”
Mia rubbed the quilt between her fingers.
“She said grown-ups need secrets because feelings can ruin things.”
“Anything else?”
“She said you were tired.”
“Of what?”
“Being sad.”
Daniel swallowed.
“Did she say I was tired of you?”
Mia did not answer.
That was the answer.
He closed his eyes.
“Was it today?”
“Last night.”
“Where?”
“In the hallway.”
“What happened?”
“I heard her talking.”
“To whom?”
“A lady on the phone.”
Likely her sister.
“What did she say?”
“She said after today she would finally come first.”
Daniel remembered Vanessa using that phrase during arguments.
I need to come first sometimes.
He had always interpreted it as a request for time.
Mia had interpreted it as a ranking.
“I came out,” Mia said. “She got mad because I was listening.”
“What did she tell you?”
“That I shouldn’t spy. I said I wasn’t. She said things would be different after the wedding and I could stay with Grandma more.”
“And the school?”
“She showed me pictures.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“What pictures?”
“Bedrooms. Girls had desks.”
“Did you tell her you didn’t want to go?”
Mia nodded.
“What did she say?”
“She said Daddy signed papers all the time and didn’t like details.”
The cruelty of the sentence was in its accuracy.
Daniel signed insurance forms, camp waivers, school notices, and medical releases while distracted. Vanessa managed many household logistics because he worked late. She may have believed she could place a school application in front of him after the honeymoon and receive approval between emails.
Perhaps she would have been right.
“What happened this morning?” he asked.
“She said I had puffy eyes.”
Daniel waited.
“She told me to wash my face. I said I wanted Grandma. She said if I made a scene, everybody would remember me instead of her.”
Mia’s eyes filled again.
“She said she only got one wedding.”
Daniel looked down.
Mia whispered, “Mom only got one funeral.”
His breath stopped.
Children did not understand equivalence the way adults did. Mia had heard Vanessa claim a wedding deserved protection and reached for the largest ceremony in her own memory.
“What did Vanessa say?”
“She said that was mean.”
“Then what?”
“I said I wished you were still married to Mom.”
Daniel’s heart sank.
“What did she say?”
“She said dead people can’t be married.”
He remained still.
Mia began crying.
“I was mean first.”
Daniel climbed onto the edge of the bed and held out his arms.
This time she came to him.
He wrapped her gently against his chest.
“You said something that hurt her,” he said. “That does not make what she said afterward okay.”
“I wanted her to go away.”
“Feelings aren’t plans.”
“She went away.”
“Because of choices adults made.”
Mia pressed her face against his shirt.
Daniel held her until her breathing slowed.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Are you unhappy?”
“Yes.”
She stiffened.
He stroked the back of her hair.
“Not because you told me. I’m unhappy because I missed what was happening. I’m unhappy because Vanessa is hurt and you are hurt and I helped create a home where neither of you felt safe enough to tell me the truth.”
“Are you mad at Mom?”
The question surprised him.
“No.”
“Vanessa was.”
“I think Vanessa was angry at a memory because memories can’t answer back.”
Mia thought about that.
“Is that bad?”
“It is lonely.”
She yawned.
Daniel stayed until she slept.
Downstairs, Eleanor had removed the wedding gifts from the table and stacked them in the dining room.
“Most can be returned,” she said.
Daniel stood in the doorway.
“Don’t do anything tonight.”
“I needed to move.”
He understood.
On the counter, Sarah’s blue mug remained where they had left it.
Daniel picked it up.
“I’m putting this away.”
Eleanor watched him.
“Not throwing it out,” he added.
“You don’t need my permission.”
“I know.”
He carried it to the small cabinet in his office where photographs and family documents were stored. Inside was a wooden box containing Sarah’s wedding ring, several letters, hospital bracelets, and the program from her funeral.
Daniel placed the mug beside the box rather than inside it.
Then he closed the cabinet.
The house did not change.
That disappointed him slightly.
He had expected air to move or grief to object.
Nothing happened.
At midnight, Vanessa called.
Daniel answered in the kitchen.
Her voice sounded raw.
“Did Mia tell you everything?”
“I don’t know what everything is.”
“She told you about the school.”
“Yes.”
“The deposit is refundable.”
“I heard you the first time.”
“My father says you implied I agreed to cancel.”
“I said we decided not to proceed.”
“We did not decide. You ended it.”
“You stopped arguing.”
“I was in shock.”
Daniel sat at the table.
“You’re right. I made the decision.”
“Thank you.”
The words were sharp.
He looked at the dark window over the sink.
“Where are you?”
“My parents’ hotel room.”
May you like
“Are they with you?”
“My mother is asleep. My father is on the phone with the venue.”
