Chương 13
Evan noticed.
He hated that he noticed.
Five minutes later Noah ran to him and dragged him toward a papier-mâché volcano.
Evan hated that he felt relieved.
Parenthood, he was discovering, contained embarrassingly petty emotions no one put on greeting cards.
Claire noticed too.
Afterward, in the parking lot, she said, “You know they don’t rank us.”
Evan opened his car door.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He looked at her.
“Maybe don’t analyze my face.”
“Fair.”
She turned toward her car.
“Claire.”
She stopped.
He almost apologized.
Then he decided he wasn’t ready.
“Nothing.”
She nodded and left.
In November, Mason asked Evan to meet for lunch without the boys.
Evan considered ignoring him.
Instead he chose a diner near his office because he did not want a restaurant where someone might refill water every two minutes while they discussed paternity.
Mason arrived first.
He had coffee.
Evan sat across from him.
“What?”
Mason almost smiled.
“Good to see you too.”
“It isn’t.”
“Fair.”
A waitress appeared.
Evan ordered coffee.
Mason waited until she left.
“I’m selling the lake place.”
Evan frowned.
Their father had left the cabin jointly to both sons.
Evan had not visited in years.
“Why?”
“Because I want out of the joint ownership.”
“So do I.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you telling me like it’s news?”
“Because I’m giving you first option.”
Evan stared at him.
“No.”
“You didn’t even ask the price.”
“I don’t want the cabin.”
Mason nodded.
“All right.”
The waitress brought coffee.
Evan added sugar, something he normally did not do.
Mason watched.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Notice things about me.”
Mason looked down.
“Okay.”
Evan almost laughed.
He stirred the coffee.
“Why did you really ask me here?”
Mason traced one finger around the base of his mug.
“I’m seeing someone.”
Evan looked at him.
“That sentence has a history.”
Mason flinched.
“I deserved that.”
“Probably.”
“She knows.”
“About the boys?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And she asked me whether I eventually want them to call me Dad.”
Evan’s jaw tightened.
Mason continued before he could speak.
“I said no.”
“Good.”
“Then I went home and realized I didn’t know whether I said no because it was true or because I’m afraid of you.”
Evan stared at him.
“You asked me here to workshop your feelings?”
“No.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to tell you what I figured out.”
Evan leaned back.
Mason looked at the table.
“I do want something more than Uncle Mason.”
Evan’s body went still.
Mason raised his eyes.
“Not instead of you.”
“Those words are very easy.”
“I know.”
“Then use harder ones.”
Mason nodded slowly.
“I want them to know I’m their biological father without treating that like an embarrassing fact everybody whispers around. I want to answer their questions when they get older. I want to show up. I want them to know my medical history. I want to know who they become.”
Evan looked away.
“That sounds like being a father.”
“Yes.”
“So we’re done with the part where you pretend you don’t know what you want.”
“I think so.”
“And what am I supposed to do with it?”
“Nothing today.”
Evan laughed once.
“That’s generous.”
“I’m trying to be clear before it turns into resentment.”
“You think you’re the one at risk of resentment?”
“I think everyone is.”
Evan looked at him.
Mason’s face was tired.
Not tragic.
Not ruined.
Just tired.
For months, Evan had wanted him to look destroyed enough to match what he had done.
He never did.
That was another unfairness.
Mason continued.
“I don’t want legal control. I don’t want to change their home. I don’t want them calling me Dad because that would be confusing and cruel to you. But I also don’t want to spend the next thirteen years pretending biology means nothing because that makes you more comfortable.”
Evan’s hand tightened around the coffee mug.
“That is a very brave sentence from someone who hid for six years.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what I want?”
Mason waited.
“I want you to feel guilty every time you see them.”
“I do.”
“No. I want to see it.”
Mason’s face tightened.
Evan heard himself.
He looked down.
There it was.
The ugly part.
He could punish Mason forever if Mason agreed to stand still.
He could make every birthday, game, school event, and Christmas into a courtroom where the verdict had already been decided.
The boys would learn the rules eventually.
Stand near Dad, not too near Mason.
Mention Mason, but not warmly.
Enjoy time with him, but hide it.
Love one man carefully so the other would not bleed.
Evan stared at the sugar grains near his spoon.
“My therapist says I use control when I’m scared.”
Mason blinked.
“You have a therapist?”
“Don’t make that face.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re making a face.”
“I’m surprised.”
Evan almost smiled.
Then he looked at him.
“I don’t forgive you.”
“I know.”
“I may never.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t want the boys learning to manage my anger.”
Mason said nothing.
Evan continued.
“You want a bigger role, you earn it slowly. You show up when you say you will. You don’t turn biology into authority. You don’t complain to them about me. You don’t ask them to keep secrets. Ever.”
Mason’s face changed at the last word.
“Never.”
“You should have said that six years ago.”
“Yes.”
Evan took a drink of coffee.
It had too much sugar.
He drank it anyway.
In December, Claire asked Evan to come to the townhouse after the boys were asleep.
He almost refused.
Then she said it concerned the house and finances, which sounded sufficiently unromantic.
He arrived at eight-thirty.
Claire’s townhouse was smaller than any place they had shared. There were shoes piled by the door. A laundry basket sat on the stairs. One of Owen’s drawings was taped crookedly to the refrigerator.
May you like
Evan noticed a leak stain near the kitchen ceiling.
“You need to tell the landlord about that.”
