Chương 5
I stared at the dark outline of the pudding cup still sitting in the sink.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean Blake didn’t look surprised when your dad threatened you.”
I thought about my brother’s face.
He had looked surprised.
But only for a second.
Then nothing.
“Mara.”
“I’m not saying I know something.”
“You’re saying you suspect something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
She hesitated long enough that I nearly asked again.
“I think they were waiting for a reason.”
I stood there with Mara’s words in my ear and the refrigerator humming beside me.
“What reason?”
“To cut you loose without looking like they cut you loose.”
I leaned against the counter.
“That sounds dramatic even for us.”
“I know.”
“You’re sure you’re not filling in blanks because tonight was ugly?”
“Yes.”
Her answer came too fast, then softened.
“Maybe a little.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“But I’m not imagining the documents.”
“No.”
“And I’m not imagining Blake asking if you could challenge something.”
“No.”
A pipe knocked somewhere in the wall behind the sink.
The building did that whenever the upstairs neighbor ran hot water.
Ordinarily it annoyed me.
That night it made the apartment feel solid.
Small, imperfect, mine.
“What do you think I should do?”
Mara was quiet.
“I don’t know.”
“Helpful.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“I think you should sleep before you decide whether you’re going to start a war with your father at three in the morning.”
“I’m not starting anything.”
“Ethan.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re using the voice.”
“What voice?”
“The one where you say you’re calm while mentally removing an engine with your bare hands.”
I looked down at my right hand.
I had curled it into a fist without noticing.
“I’m not going back there.”
“I didn’t tell you to.”
“I mean ever.”
That silence lasted longer.
Finally Mara said, “Okay.”
The word was careful.
Not approving.
Not arguing.
Just making room for the possibility.
“June heard what Blake said about Rebecca.”
“I know.”
“She heard Dad threaten me over money.”
“I know.”
“I can’t teach her that this is family.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I don’t have anything smarter.”
That almost made me laugh.
Instead I opened the cabinet, took out a glass, filled it with water, and forgot to drink.
Mara said, “Do one thing for me.”
“What?”
“Save Blake’s text.”
“I deleted it.”
“Check recently deleted.”
“You sound like a detective.”
“I sound like someone whose cousin married a divorce attorney.”
“That’s worse.”
“Probably.”
I recovered the message and took a screenshot.
Then Mara asked me to forward it to her.
I did not.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not dragging you into this.”
“I’m already in it.”
“No, you witnessed something.”
“That is being in it.”
“Not the same way.”
“Ethan, your family has spent thirty years teaching you that accepting help creates debt.”
“That is an irritatingly specific observation for two thirty in the morning.”
“I’m very wise when I’m tired.”
“I noticed.”
“Send me the screenshot.”
I still did not.
She sighed.
“Fine.”
“I’ll keep it.”
“Keep everything.”
“I heard you.”
“And take pictures of June’s face tomorrow.”
That one made my stomach twist.
“Why?”
“Because injuries change.”
“I know how bruises work.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
I knew what she meant.
Proof.
Evidence.
A record.
I hated the thought of turning my daughter’s birthday into a file.
But I hated even more that Blake had already started telling people I was unstable.
“Okay.”
“Good.”
“Mara?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
She went quiet for a second.
Then she said, “Don’t make it weird.”
I smiled despite the hour.
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
I set the phone facedown on the counter.
Then I turned it over again.
There was one new voicemail from my father.
I stared at the notification.
I told myself I would not listen.
Then I listened.
His voice came through low and controlled.
“Ethan, you made a spectacle tonight.”
A pause.
“You embarrassed your mother, frightened your daughter, and assaulted your brother.”
I stopped breathing for a second at frightened your daughter.
He continued.
“I am giving you until noon tomorrow to call me and make this right.”
Another pause.
“If you choose not to, then I will assume you have made your decision about this family.”
The message ended.
I replayed it.
Not because I enjoyed punishment.
Because the second time I heard something I missed the first.
He had said frightened your daughter.
Not Blake frightened her.
You frightened her.
I saved the voicemail.
Then I hated myself for feeling relieved that he had made the lie so clean.
At seven twenty, June wandered into the living room wearing one of my old T-shirts and one sock.
She looked at me sleeping crookedly on the couch.
“You snore.”
“I absolutely do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“What happened to your other sock?”
She looked down at her feet as if surprised.
“I don’t know.”
“That feels like a bigger problem.”
She sat beside my knees.
Her cheek had developed a faint purplish shadow beneath the adhesive strips.
I tried not to stare.
She noticed anyway.
“It looks bad?”
“It looks like you head-butted a castle.”
“That castle started it.”
I smiled.
Then I asked, “Can I take a picture of your cheek?”
Her expression changed.
“Why?”
I did not want to lie.
“In case anyone says you weren’t hurt.”
She looked at me for a few seconds.
“Uncle Blake?”
“Maybe.”
“Grandpa?”
“Maybe.”
She nodded once.
“Okay.”
I took three pictures in the kitchen where the light was better.
June stood still through all of them.
Afterward she held out her hand for my phone.
“Can I see?”
I gave it to her.
She zoomed in on the bruise.
“Gross.”
“Very clinical assessment.”
“It looks worse than it feels.”
“That’s good.”
She handed the phone back.
“Can we delete them later?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“When we don’t need them anymore.”
She accepted that.
May you like
Then she opened the refrigerator and stared inside.
“We have no breakfast.”
