Chương 13
“I waste plenty.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I watched three episodes of a terrible baking competition last Tuesday.”
He stared at me.
“That is somehow comforting.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
Conrad looked between us as though our brief ease irritated him more than the argument.
“Tomorrow at nine.”
I put my phone away.
“Yes.”
“That seems unavoidable.”
He almost answered, then stopped.
For the first time all evening, he appeared to recognize that not every remark required a counterattack.
The DJ announced the cake cutting.
A cheer rose.
Mara waved toward us from across the room with both arms.
Julian pointed emphatically at the cake table.
Damian looked at me.
“Duty calls.”
“Apparently.”
We joined them.
For the next hour, the family performed normalcy badly.
It was almost a relief.
Julian smeared frosting on Mara’s nose.
She retaliated by pressing an entire piece of cake against his cheek.
A photographer caught the moment.
Damian complained that wedding cake had become too sophisticated and should return to being “white sugar with structural problems.”
Aunt Celia appeared with peppermint tea for Julian.
Mara nearly choked laughing.
My father accepted congratulations from guests with an expression of polished gratitude.
Every few minutes, someone approached me.
Some knew who I was.
Others had only learned an hour earlier.
A retired Marine colonel shook my hand and told me his daughter had just entered the Naval Academy.
A woman from Boston told me her brother had served twenty years and then spent five minutes describing his knee replacement.
A defense contractor attempted to discuss procurement until I told him gently that this was a wedding.
He apologized.
Then he tried again six minutes later.
It was strangely reassuring.
Rank did not make people less human.
It often just gave them more elaborate reasons to corner you near dessert.
Near eleven, I escaped to the terrace.
The night air was cooler than the ballroom.
Traffic moved below.
The city had thinned but not quieted.
I rested both hands on the stone railing.
My feet hurt.
I slipped off one heel, then the other.
The concrete was cold beneath my stockings.
“Elegant.”
I looked over.
Mara stood in the doorway carrying two glasses of water.
“I’m off duty.”
She handed me one.
“I thought admirals didn’t get sore feet.”
“That is classified.”
She smiled.
Then her face softened.
“I’m sorry about the toast.”
“You already said that.”
“I know.”
“You meant well.”
“That is not the same as doing well.”
“No.”
She nodded.
“I should have respected what you asked.”
I took a drink.
“Yes.”
She looked relieved by the bluntness.
“I thought if people knew who you were, Conrad couldn’t humiliate you.”
“He still could.”
“Right.”
“He just had less success.”
Mara laughed quietly.
“I wanted to protect you.”
“I know.”
“That sounds presumptuous.”
“A little.”
She winced.
“Fair.”
We stood in silence for a moment.
Inside, the DJ changed to something louder.
The glass doors vibrated faintly with bass.
Mara rested her elbows on the railing.
“Julian has been carrying those files around in his head for months.”
“I can tell.”
“He stopped sleeping properly after he found them.”
“Why didn’t he contact me?”
“He did.”
I turned.
“What?”
“Three times.”
“I never received anything.”
“He never sent them.”
She looked embarrassed on his behalf.
“He wrote messages, deleted them, rewrote them, deleted those.”
“That also sounds like him.”
“He was afraid you would think he wanted something.”
“Did he?”
“Want something?”
“Yes.”
She considered the question.
“He wanted permission to stop believing the version of his family he grew up with.”
I looked back toward the city.
“That is not something I can give him.”
“I know.”
“He has to decide what he believes.”
“I know.”
We were quiet again.
Then Mara said, “He also missed you.”
I swallowed.
“I barely know him.”
“He remembers you.”
“I left when he was nine.”
“Seven.”
I looked at her.
“You’re right.”
“He remembers paper airplanes.”
A laugh escaped me.
“Of course he does.”
“He says you made one that landed in Conrad’s soup.”
“That was not intentional.”
“He says it was the greatest thing he had ever seen.”
I smiled despite myself.
“I had forgotten that.”
Mara nodded toward the ballroom.
“He didn’t.”
The terrace doors opened.
Julian appeared.
He had lost his tie entirely.
“There you are.”
Mara lifted her glass.
“I am hydrating your aunt.”
He looked at my bare feet.
“You broke her.”
“I did not.”
“You made an admiral take off her shoes.”
“I believe the shoes did that.”
He stepped onto the terrace.
For a moment, none of us said anything.
Then Julian looked at me.
“I’m sorry.”
“You already apologized.”
“I’m still sorry.”
“That can happen.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets.
“I should have told you about the files before inviting you.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you would say no.”
“I might have.”
“That is why I didn’t.”
“I know.”
He looked ashamed.
“I wanted you here before you could decide not to be.”
The sentence was so painfully familiar that I almost looked toward the ballroom to see whether Conrad had heard.
I studied Julian.
“You understand what you just said?”
He frowned.
Then his face changed.
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Great.”
Mara touched his arm.
“This is why therapy exists.”
He groaned.
“Can we not?”
I laughed.
Julian lowered his hands and stared at me.
“You’re laughing.”
“I am.”
“At me?”
“With some affection.”
“That is worse.”
Mara smiled.
I put my shoes back on.
“Julian.”
“Yes?”
“Do not manipulate people into staying because you are afraid they will leave.”
His mouth tightened.
“I know.”
“No.”
I stood.
“You know now.”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
“That is different.”
He looked toward Mara.
“I’m sorry.”
She leaned into him.
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“I hate that everyone keeps saying that.”
“I know.”
He groaned again.
For one brief minute, it felt like family without the old machinery underneath it.
May you like
Not healed.
Not repaired.
