Chương 3
“Why did you go?”
“I wanted to know how bad it was.”
“And?”
Lily looked toward the living room, where Noah was laughing at another seal.
“It was worse.”
My phone vibrated again.
This time the message came directly from Dad.
Can I come by tomorrow morning?
Before I could answer, another message arrived.
There’s something about this you don’t know.
I read it twice.
Lily watched my face.
“What?”
I handed her the phone.
She read Dad’s message and went still.
Then a third message appeared.
Your mother has been canceling invitations before they ever reached you.
Lily read the message again.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
She handed the phone back, but I could see the answer beginning to form in her face.
Dad had not said Mom had declined invitations.
He had said she had canceled them before they reached us.
I typed, Tomorrow at nine.
Dad replied almost immediately.
I’ll be there.
Lily stood beside me for another moment.
Then she said, “Do you want me to stay downstairs?”
“No.”
“Because if Grandpa is going to tell you something about Grandma and Noah, I think I should hear it.”
“You’re seventeen.”
She gave me a tired look.
“That argument didn’t work very well for her either.”
Under different circumstances, I might have laughed.
Instead I rubbed my forehead.
“You can stay.”
She nodded and carried the bowl to the dishwasher.
Then she stopped.
“Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forgive everyone tonight because they feel bad.”
I looked at her.
“I’m not planning to.”
“I know.”
She closed the dishwasher.
“You plan to tomorrow.”
That night I slept badly.
At two in the morning I found Noah standing in the hallway outside my bedroom.
His dinosaur shirt had been replaced by pajamas covered in little blue rockets.
“Can I sleep in here?”
“Of course.”
He climbed into my bed without another word and curled toward the edge, leaving an exaggerated amount of space between us.
Even half asleep, he was careful not to inconvenience me.
I lay beside him and stared at the ceiling.
Around three, he rolled over and put one foot against my shin.
I didn’t move it.
Dad arrived the next morning carrying a cardboard tray with three coffees and a paper bag from the bakery near his house.
He looked ten years older than he had at the picnic.
Lily opened the door before I reached it.
“Hi, Grandpa.”
“Hi, kiddo.”
His eyes flicked toward the stairs.
“Is Noah awake?”
“He’s building something in his room.”
Dad nodded.
He held out the bakery bag.
“I brought chocolate croissants.”
Lily took it.
“Noah doesn’t like chocolate croissants.”
Dad closed his eyes briefly.
“Right.”
“I like them.”
“Good.”
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you, Lily.”
“You’re welcome.”
Dad almost smiled.
That tiny exchange made the whole morning feel worse.
We sat around the kitchen table.
Dad put his coffee down and spent several seconds peeling the cardboard sleeve off the cup, then sliding it back on.
My father had always needed something to do with his hands when he was nervous.
When I was a child, he tightened loose screws that were not loose.
At funerals, he folded programs into perfect rectangles.
At my wedding, before walking me down the aisle, he had polished his glasses three times.
Finally I said, “What invitations?”
He stopped touching the cup.
“Some of this I only found out recently.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
He looked at Lily, then at me.
“Your cousin Rachel had a graduation party for Emma in May.”
I waited.
My stomach had already started tightening.
“We weren’t invited.”
“Yes, you were.”
The words landed softly.
That somehow made them worse.
Dad continued.
“Rachel texted your mother because she didn’t have your new number.”
“My number hasn’t changed in six years.”
Dad looked down.
“I know.”
“What did Mom tell her?”
“That you couldn’t come.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“She said Noah had been having a difficult month and crowds were too much for him.”
Lily’s face changed.
“Noah was at my school carnival that month.”
“I know.”
“Two thousand people were there.”
“I know.”
My voice came out sharper than I intended.
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw the pictures you posted.”
I pushed my coffee away.
It suddenly smelled burned.
“What else?”
Dad rubbed his thumb along the seam of the cup.
“Your aunt Susan hosted that barbecue last summer.”
“The one she told me was just neighbors?”
“It wasn’t.”
Something cold settled behind my ribs.
I remembered seeing pictures afterward.
Susan’s patio.
Eric holding a beer.
Caroline’s kids in the inflatable pool.
My cousins crowded around the firepit.
When I had asked Susan why no one mentioned it, she had laughed and said it had turned into a family thing accidentally after some people stopped by.
“She invited us?”
Dad nodded.
“Your mother told her you already had plans.”
“What plans?”
“I don’t know.”
“How many times?”
Dad did not answer.
“Dad.”
“I can confirm four.”
Lily whispered, “Four?”
He lifted a hand.
“There may be more.”
I stood so quickly my chair bumped the wall.
For a moment I couldn’t decide where to go.
I walked to the sink.
There were two clean water bottles drying upside down on a towel.
A cereal bowl Noah had rinsed but not washed sat beside them with three Cheerios stuck to the rim.
I stared at those Cheerios because looking at my father felt impossible.
“She’s been removing us from the family.”
Dad said nothing.
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Years?”
“Maybe.”
I turned around.
“You knew?”
His face tightened.
“Not at first.”
“When did you know?”
“Last Christmas.”
Lily made a sound under her breath.
I gripped the counter.
“You knew last Christmas and said nothing.”
“I confronted her.”
“Oh, good.”
“Marissa.”
“No, that’s great.”
May you like
I laughed, and the sound startled me.
“You confronted her privately, which apparently solved everything so well that yesterday she publicly told my son to stay home.”
