Chương 12
He looked at her.
“Not tonight.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“I don’t know.”
Her mouth trembled.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Dad’s expression broke for half a second.
Then he looked down at his keys.
“Sit with it.”
Mom gave a small, disbelieving laugh.
“That sounds like something Marissa would say.”
Dad looked at her again.
“No.”
His voice was tired.
“It sounds like something nobody has ever made you do.”
She left.
The front door closed quietly.
Nobody moved for several seconds.
Then from upstairs came a crash, followed by Mason shouting, “We’re fine.”
Eric yelled toward the ceiling, “What broke?”
“Nothing.”
“That answer means something broke.”
“Noah called back, “It was already kind of broken.”
Eric closed his eyes.
“Great.”
Lily sat down.
Dad laughed once through his nose.
The sound seemed to surprise him.
I leaned against the wall.
My knees had begun trembling.
Eric noticed.
“You okay?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Yeah.”
Dad picked up one of the coffees, apparently forgetting it was empty, and tried to drink from it.
He frowned at the cup.
Lily watched him.
“That’s tragic.”
Dad looked at her.
“I’ve had a difficult morning.”
“You keep trying to drink cardboard.”
“I’m coping.”
That made Eric smile.
The moment passed.
Nothing was fixed.
But the house began moving again.
Eric went upstairs to inspect whatever the boys had almost destroyed.
Lily took the empty cups to the trash.
Dad sat at the kitchen table and stared at his wedding ring.
I opened the refrigerator.
I was not hungry.
I stood there anyway, looking at mustard, yogurt, leftover pasta, a container of blueberries going soft.
Dad said, “Close the door.”
I looked back.
“What?”
“You’re letting all the cold out.”
The sentence was so familiar that I almost laughed.
He had said the same thing throughout my childhood.
I closed it.
Then I sat across from him.
“Are you going to divorce her?”
He looked at me.
“I have no idea.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
“I feel like I blew up your marriage.”
Dad’s face tightened.
“You didn’t.”
“Yesterday morning you were grilling burgers.”
“Yesterday morning I was ignoring things.”
“That’s different.”
“Not different enough.”
He turned the wedding ring slowly.
“I keep thinking about all the times she told me you were busy.”
My throat tightened.
“When?”
“Birthdays.”
“Weekends.”
“Thanksgiving one year.”
“Which year?”
“The year you went to Pittsburgh with Daniel’s family.”
I frowned.
“We went because you said Mom wanted a small Thanksgiving.”
Dad stared at me.
My stomach dropped.
“She told me you wanted to alternate holidays.”
I shook my head.
“We had never talked about alternating.”
Dad rubbed his eyes.
“She told me you said her cooking stressed Noah out.”
“What?”
“I know.”
“No.”
“I know.”
His voice cracked.
“I know now.”
I leaned back.
Daniel had been my husband for fourteen years before our divorce.
He was still Noah and Lily’s father.
Our marriage had ended for ordinary reasons that did not feel ordinary while living through them.
Resentment.
Money.
Work.
Two people becoming efficient roommates and then discovering efficiency was not intimacy.
We had tried counseling.
We had tried date nights.
We had tried pretending not to notice.
Eventually we stopped.
But during those final years, Mom had often said Daniel’s family was pulling me away from mine.
I had dismissed it as jealousy.
Now I wondered what she had told them about me.
I picked up my phone.
Dad watched me.
“Who are you calling?”
“Daniel.”
He looked surprised.
“Why?”
“Because I need to know.”
Daniel answered on the fourth ring.
“Hey.”
His voice was cautious.
We did not call each other on Sunday mornings unless something involved the kids.
“Is Noah okay?”
“Yes.”
“Lily?”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened?”
I almost smiled.
He knew our communication system too well.
“I need to ask you something weird.”
“That narrows it down to your entire family.”
Despite myself, I laughed.
Dad looked offended on behalf of the family.
I put the call on speaker.
“Do you remember Thanksgiving in Pittsburgh?”
There was a pause.
“Which one?”
“The year Noah was five.”
“The one where your mother got mad?”
I looked at Dad.
“What do you mean?”
Daniel went quiet.
“Marissa.”
“What did she say to you?”
“You really don’t know?”
“No.”
Dad’s expression changed again.
Daniel exhaled.
“She called me before we left.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Why?”
“She said you were using Noah as an excuse to avoid your family.”
Dad muttered something under his breath.
I said, “What did you tell her?”
“That it was none of her business.”
That sounded exactly like Daniel.
Blunt.
Efficient.
Occasionally infuriating.
“What else?”
“She said my family encouraged you to be selfish.”
Dad looked up.
Daniel continued.
“I told her she was being ridiculous.”
“Did you tell me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you were already stressed.”
The phrase made me close my eyes.
Daniel heard the silence.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, that was a specific kind of nothing.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“I’m learning that a lot of people protected me from conversations I probably needed to know about.”
Daniel was quiet.
Then he said, “That sounds like your family.”
Dad flinched.
I hated that Daniel was right.
“Did she ever contact you about invitations?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
Dad leaned forward.
“How often?”
Daniel said, “Who is there?”
“Dad.”
“Hi, Frank.”
Dad said, “Hi.”
Neither sounded comfortable.
Daniel continued.
“Diane used to ask me whether certain events would be too much for Noah.”
“What events?”
“Birthday dinners.”
“Christmas.”
“Your dad’s retirement party.”
I looked at Dad.
His eyes widened.
“We went to the retirement party.”
“Yeah.”
Daniel said, “Because I told her we were going.”
“What did she say?”
“That Marissa seemed overwhelmed.”
I covered my face with one hand.
Daniel’s voice softened.
“I thought she was meddling.”
“She was.”
“Yeah.”
“But I didn’t realize she was telling other people things too.”
“No one did.”
May you like
He was silent for a moment.
Then he asked, “Do you need me to take the kids today?”
