Chương 14
“Shut up, David.”
“No.”
His voice was calm now.
“You’ve had six years.”
I looked at my mother.
“What did you ask him to do?”
“Nothing.”
My father laughed bitterly.
“She asked me whether I still had the letter.”
I felt Emily’s fingers close around my wrist.
“What did you tell her?”
“That I did.”
My mother snapped, “You said you destroyed it.”
“I lied.”
The room became quiet.
Not shocked quiet.
Exhausted quiet.
Like everyone had finally understood that truth was going to arrive in pieces whether we wanted it or not.
“What’s in the letter?”
My father took a breath.
“Walter knew Teresa had money problems.”
My mother stared at the wall.
“He knew she had used credit cards in your names when you were younger.”
My head lifted.
“What?”
Brittany whispered, “What did he say?”
My father continued.
“He found out because Ethan’s credit report had accounts on it that shouldn’t have existed.”
I looked at Teresa.
“No.”
She said nothing.
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You never opened cards in my name.”
Her eyes filled.
That was answer enough.
A memory surfaced.
I was twenty-three, sitting at a kitchen table with a rejection letter for an apartment.
My mother beside me.
Her saying young people always had bad credit now.
Her offering to cosign.
Me feeling ashamed because I thought I had ruined something without even knowing how.
“How many?”
Teresa shook her head.
“Ethan.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
Brittany stood.
“In his name?”
Teresa did not answer.
Kayla whispered, “Were there any in ours?”
My mother looked at her daughters.
Nobody needed the answer spoken.
Brittany backed away from the table.
“Oh my God.”
Lily covered her mouth.
My father’s voice came through the phone.
“That’s why Walter structured things the way he did.”
I looked at the speaker.
“How?”
“He did not trust Teresa with direct control.”
My mother exploded.
“He was a judgmental old bastard who hated me from the day I married you.”
“He hated what you did.”
“You abandoned your children.”
“Yes.”
The word stopped her.
My father said it again.
“Yes, I did.”
His voice was lower now.
“I was a coward.”
Nobody responded.
“I drank too much.”
He continued.
“I cheated.”
Teresa’s face twisted.
“I left.”
A pause.
“I don’t get to rewrite that.”
Even I did not know what to do with the admission.
My father had always existed in my head as the villain because villains were easier when they stayed offscreen.
“Then why didn’t you tell me about the money?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“After I found the paperwork.”
“I never heard from you.”
“You didn’t answer.”
“That’s a lie.”
“I called.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
“I would remember.”
“You had my number blocked.”
I looked at Teresa.
She looked away.
A new piece fell into place.
I remembered switching phones around that time.
My mother had helped set up the family plan.
“Did you block him?”
She shook her head.
“Did you?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Stop saying that.”
My voice broke.
“I am so tired of you not remembering the exact things that would make you responsible.”
Emily stood.
I turned immediately.
“Sit down.”
“I’m okay.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“Ethan.”
Then her face changed.
Her hand went to her stomach.
I moved before she said anything.
“Pain?”
She breathed through her nose.
“A little.”
Renee was already beside her.
“Same as last night?”
“No.”
“Different?”
“Tight.”
Every other problem in the room vanished.
I put one hand on Emily’s back.
“We’re leaving.”
“I don’t need the hospital.”
“We’re not arguing.”
She looked like she wanted to.
Then another tightening crossed her face.
That ended it.
Marcus grabbed the keys.
Renee took Emily’s purse.
My father was still on speaker.
“What’s happening?”
“Emily’s having contractions.”
“Who’s Emily?”
“My wife.”
A beat.
“You’re married.”
I almost laughed at the absurdity.
“Yes.”
“And she’s pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“How far?”
“Eight months.”
The silence on the line hurt in a completely different way.
My father had missed my wedding.
He had missed the pregnancy.
He had missed years so thoroughly that basic facts of my life arrived to him during a family crisis.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I did not answer.
I helped Emily toward the door.
My mother followed.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
She stopped.
“What?”
“I need space from you.”
“Ethan.”
“Not forever.”
I hated that I had to clarify it.
“But right now.”
Her face crumpled.
For the first time, she looked frightened instead of angry.
“Please.”
I opened the door.
Behind me, my father’s voice came through the phone.
“I’ll wait.”
I looked down at the screen.
“For what?”
“For you to decide whether you want the letter.”
I almost told him to bring it immediately.
Instead, I looked at Emily.
She was breathing carefully, one hand against the wall.
“Keep it safe.”
“I have.”
“For six years?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He did not answer right away.
Then he said, “Because it was the only proof I had that your grandfather knew what your mother was capable of.”
I looked back at Teresa.
Her face had gone white again.
My father continued.
“And because it also proves I took money from you after I knew exactly whose money it was.”
That stopped me at the doorway.
He did not try to soften it.
“I blackmailed her.”
The words landed hard.
“I told myself I was desperate.”
His voice sounded tired now.
“I told myself she had already stolen it, so I wasn’t stealing from you.”
He paused.
“I was.”
No one in the apartment moved.
My father inhaled.
“That’s the worst part she was hiding.”
Teresa laughed bitterly.
“You think confessing now makes you noble?”
“No.”
“It doesn’t.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Another pause.
“Because our son deserves one parent telling him the truth before we both run out of chances.”
I looked at the phone.
Then at my mother.
Neither of them looked like monsters anymore.
That should have made things easier.
May you like
It did not.
They looked like two damaged people who had spent years making selfish choices and calling those choices survival.
