Chương 5
Josh hired him.
Mom knew.
I told them not to.
Dad keeps asking for you.
I didn’t answer.
At eight fourteen, an unfamiliar Portland number called.
I let it ring.
A voicemail appeared.
Peter Dwyer.
His voice was softer than it had been outside.
“Conor, this is Peter.”
“I received word that you contacted your sister.”
“My involvement is over.”
“I apologize for approaching you at your residence.”
“I was retained to confirm your welfare and provide contact information.”
“I’ll delete my notes according to the terms of my contract.”
“Take care.”
I replayed that once.
Then I blocked his number.
For two days, nothing happened.
I went to work.
I attended meetings.
I corrected an inventory forecast that Elena insisted had been designed by “somebody with a personal grudge against arithmetic.”
At lunch, I ate leftover noodles while coworkers argued about whether the office refrigerator smelled worse on Mondays or Fridays.
The normality helped.
Then, Thursday afternoon, reception called my extension.
“There’s someone here asking for you.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“She says she’s your sister.”
I stood so quickly my chair rolled backward into the cabinet.
Elena looked over from the next desk.
“You okay?”
“No.”
She stood too.
“Need me?”
“I don’t know.”
The elevator ride downstairs felt longer than four floors.
When the doors opened, Lily was sitting alone in the reception area with a small suitcase between her knees.
She looked older than thirty.
Not dramatically older.
Just tired around the eyes in a way I had never seen before.
She stood when she saw me.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then she said, “Hi.”
I stayed beside the elevator.
“How did you find my workplace?”
Her face fell.
“The investigator’s report.”
“I told you not to send anyone to my home.”
“I didn’t.”
“You came to my job instead.”
“I know how that looks.”
“It looks exactly like what it is.”
“Conor, please.”
“No.”
She flinched.
Not theatrically.
Just a small tightening around her mouth.
The receptionist had suddenly become extremely interested in her computer monitor.
I walked toward the lobby doors.
“Come outside.”
Lily grabbed her suitcase and followed.
We crossed the street to a coffee shop I had never used because the espresso tasted burnt.
Inside, I chose a table near the window.
Lily ordered tea and forgot to put anything in it.
She just wrapped both hands around the cup.
“You shouldn’t have come,” I said.
“I know.”
“Then why are you here?”
She looked down.
“Because Dad is dying.”
The sentence landed without drama.
That made it worse.
“He had another stroke yesterday.”
I stared at her.
“They’re saying the swelling is bad.”
“Who’s saying?”
“The neurologist.”
She swallowed.
“They won’t give us guarantees.”
I looked through the window at a cyclist locking his bike to a pole.
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to see him.”
“No.”
Her eyes filled immediately.
She looked embarrassed by the tears and wiped them away with the heel of her hand.
“He keeps asking.”
“That doesn’t obligate me.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
She said it quietly.
“I do now.”
I looked back at her.
Lily twisted the paper sleeve around her cup.
“At first I was angry with you.”
“I figured.”
“I thought you were punishing all of us for one stupid joke.”
“It wasn’t one joke.”
“I know that now too.”
I didn’t respond.
She took a breath.
“After you left, everybody talked about how dramatic you were.”
“That sounds right.”
“Josh said you’d be back by Monday.”
A bitter laugh escaped her.
“Dad said you finally found a way to make the reunion about yourself.”
My jaw tightened.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because that’s what happened.”
She looked at me then.
“And because I said nothing.”
The coffee shop door opened behind us.
A woman came in carrying a toddler who was furious about wearing shoes.
The child screamed.
The mother apologized to nobody in particular.
Lily waited until they passed.
“I kept thinking somebody else would call Dad out,” she said.
“Mom, maybe.”
“Josh.”
“Uncle Ray.”
“Someone older.”
“Someone louder.”
“Anyone except me.”
Her fingers stopped turning the sleeve.
“And when nobody did, I told myself it wasn’t my job.”
I looked at her.
“That’s pretty much the whole family philosophy.”
“I know.”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
Then it disappeared.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked away.
“I don’t need an apology because he’s sick.”
“I’m not apologizing because he’s sick.”
“Would you be here if he wasn’t?”
She went still.
There it was.
The question neither of us could make polite.
Finally she said, “Probably not.”
The answer hurt.
It also made me trust her a little more.
She stared at the table.
“I probably would’ve kept telling myself you needed space.”
“Which was convenient.”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“Very.”
I watched steam fade from her untouched tea.
“You came all the way here to tell me Dad’s dying.”
“No.”
She raised her eyes.
“I came because if he dies, I don’t want Josh and Mom deciding what happened between you and him.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they’re already rewriting it.”
My stomach tightened.
“How?”
“Dad never meant the joke.”
“Dad was drunk.”
“You were always sensitive.”
“Everyone tried to reach you.”
“You abandoned us.”
She listed the phrases without emphasis.
“Mom keeps saying all of them.”
I leaned back.
“And you?”
“I told her you left because we gave you every reason to.”
That surprised me enough that I had no response.
Lily looked down at the tea again.
“She didn’t speak to me for two days.”
“That must’ve been peaceful.”
A small laugh escaped her.
It broke halfway through.
She pressed her lips together.
Then she said, “Come once.”
I shook my head.
“Not for them.”
“There is no version of this that isn’t for them.”
“Then for yourself.”
I stood.
Lily’s expression tightened.
“I’m going back to work.”
She nodded.
“I figured.”
May you like
At the door, I stopped.
I hated myself for stopping.
