Chương 8
When the call ended, Dad stood again.
“I need to talk to your mother.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“No?”
“You need to think before you talk to her.”
“Marissa, this is my wife.”
“And that seems to be the problem.”
His face hardened.
I immediately regretted the phrasing.
Not the point.
Just the cruelty.
Dad pushed the chair in.
“You don’t get to reduce forty-seven years of marriage to one morning.”
“No.”
I stood too.
“But you don’t get to use forty-seven years as a reason not to look at what she’s done.”
His jaw tightened.
Lily stayed perfectly still.
Dad looked toward the living room.
When he spoke again, his voice was lower.
“I know she can be difficult.”
I laughed.
“Dad.”
“I know.”
“No, that word is doing a lot of work.”
He looked at me.
“You think I don’t see it?”
“I think you’ve spent decades calling it something smaller.”
His eyes flashed.
“You think that’s easy?”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“You think living with someone means confronting every bad trait the second it appears?”
“No.”
“People accommodate each other.”
“Yes.”
“People make compromises.”
“Yes.”
“People overlook things.”
“Yes.”
His voice rose.
“So don’t stand there and act like every silence was cowardice.”
I felt my own anger rise to meet his.
“I’m not talking about every silence.”
“I am.”
He slapped one hand against his chest.
“I am because I’m the one who has to go home.”
That stopped me.
His eyes were wet.
Not crying.
Just wet.
“I’m the one who walks into that house and has to decide whether the woman I’ve loved since I was twenty-four has been lying to all of us for seventeen years.”
Lily looked down.
Dad’s voice broke.
“And if she has, I have to figure out what that makes me.”
The room went quiet.
I sat first.
Dad remained standing for another moment.
Then he sat too.
I wanted to tell him it did not make him anything.
That people could be deceived.
That marriage was complicated.
That he had done his best.
All my usual language arrived at once.
I swallowed it.
“You’re going to have to figure that out.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
“And I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For saying it like this is easy.”
Dad looked at me.
“It isn’t.”
“I know.”
We sat there for a while.
Lily got up and put the abandoned croissant bag into the cabinet.
Then she took it back out.
“Actually, these will get stale.”
She found a plastic container and transferred them one by one.
Dad watched her.
“You get that from your grandmother.”
Lily froze.
Dad winced.
“The container thing.”
She looked at the container.
Then at him.
“Great.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.”
She snapped the lid on.
“I contain pastries manipulatively.”
Dad laughed before he could stop himself.
So did I.
The laughter lasted maybe three seconds.
It felt inappropriate.
It also felt necessary.
Then the front door opened.
I stood so fast my chair nearly tipped.
Noah walked in from the hallway holding a small backpack.
“What are you doing?”
He looked surprised.
“Going to Mason’s.”
My stomach dropped.
“No, honey.”
He frowned.
“He texted me.”
Lily and I looked at each other.
“You have his number?”
“He messages me on my tablet.”
Of course he did.
I had helped set it up.
Noah unzipped the backpack and showed me two small action figures and a pack of crackers.
“He said Uncle Eric is bringing him.”
Dad stood.
“When?”
“Now.”
My phone was on silent on the table.
There were four missed calls from Eric.
Before I could call him back, a car door slammed outside.
Then another.
Lily crossed to the window.
“They’re here.”
I looked at Dad.
He looked as alarmed as I felt.
“What did Eric do?”
“I told him to talk to Mason.”
“I didn’t tell him to bring him here.”
Noah’s face changed.
“Am I not allowed to see him?”
“No.”
I crouched in front of him.
“That’s not what I mean.”
The doorbell rang.
Noah looked toward it.
“Then can I open the door?”
I hesitated.
He noticed.
Again.
Every hesitation.
Every adult calculation.
Every pause that made him wonder whether he was the problem.
“Yes.”
He ran to the door.
Mason stood on the porch in a baseball cap and wrinkled T-shirt, with Eric behind him.
The moment Noah opened the door, Mason stepped inside and punched him lightly in the shoulder.
“You idiot.”
Noah blinked.
“What?”
“I thought you hated me.”
Noah stared at him.
“What?”
Eric closed his eyes.
Mason looked embarrassed now.
“Dad said you guys needed space.”
Noah turned toward me.
I saw the confusion arrive first.
Then the hurt.
“I didn’t say that.”
Mason’s face crumpled.
“I know.”
“How?”
“Dad told me.”
Noah looked at Eric.
Eric did not hide.
“I got something wrong.”
He stepped inside.
“Actually, I got a lot wrong.”
Noah’s voice was small.
“Because Grandma lied?”
Eric paused.
I held my breath.
This was the moment I had warned him about.
He looked at Mason, then at Noah.
“No.”
Both boys stared at him.
“Grandma lied about some things.”
Eric swallowed.
“But I chose not to ask questions.”
He looked at me once.
“So this part is mine.”
Mason shifted his weight.
“I told him he was being dumb.”
Eric nodded.
“He did.”
Noah considered all of this.
Then he looked at Mason.
“I don’t hate you.”
“I know.”
“Your birthday card was cool.”
“I know.”
“You never said.”
“I forgot.”
Noah frowned.
“That’s rude.”
“Yeah.”
Mason held up a game controller he had brought from home.
“You want to play?”
Noah looked at me.
“Can I?”
“Yes.”
The boys disappeared toward the living room.
Thirty seconds later, they were arguing about which game to load.
Eric stood in my entryway looking wrecked.
“I should’ve called before coming.”
“Yes.”
“Mason insisted.”
“He’s twelve.”
“I know.”
“You’re forty-three.”
“Forty-four.”
“That makes it worse.”
May you like
He almost smiled.
Then the front door opened again behind him.
