Chương 9
He wrote paying rent, court, driving, and making sure nobody lies under adults.
Dr. Morris tapped the last one.
“Why is that an adult job?”
“Because adults lie better.”
She did not laugh.
“Do children lie?”
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
“Sometimes.”
“What do you lie about?”
“Brushing my teeth.”
“Anything else?”
He looked at the markers arranged in a cup.
“I told Dad Mason said things he didn’t.”
“Why?”
“So Dad would stop asking Mason.”
“Did that work?”
“For that night.”
“What happened the next time?”
“He asked again.”
Dr. Morris nodded.
“So the lie solved something for a little while and made something else harder.”
Ethan pressed the green marker cap until it clicked.
“That’s what Mom does.”
“What does she lie about?”
“She says everything will be okay.”
“Do you think she believes it?”
“No.”
“Do you think she wants you to?”
“Yes.”
He clicked the cap again.
“What would happen if she said she didn’t know?”
“I don’t know.”
Dr. Morris smiled slightly. “There it is.”
The Saturday visit with Jonathan took place in a family services center that smelled of disinfectant and microwave popcorn. The room had a sofa, a small table, board games with missing pieces, and a camera mounted near the ceiling.
A supervisor named Ruth sat by the door with a clipboard.
Jonathan arrived carrying two gift bags.
Ruth told him gifts had not been approved.
“They’re books,” he said.
“You may leave them with the front desk for review.”
“My sons are allowed to read.”
“That is not the issue.”
“It appears everything has become an issue.”
Ruth did not argue. She held out her hand.
Jonathan gave her the bags.
Ethan and Mason entered five minutes later.
Jonathan stood but did not approach until Ruth nodded. Mason went to him first. Jonathan hugged him carefully. When Ethan’s turn came, Jonathan opened his arms.
Ethan remained near the door.
Jonathan lowered them.
“Okay,” he said.
They sat around the table.
For several minutes, Jonathan asked about school. Mason described a science video about volcanoes. Ethan answered only when necessary.
Jonathan’s attention kept drifting toward the ceiling camera.
“I brought books,” he said. “They wouldn’t let me give them to you yet.”
Ruth looked up from her clipboard.
“What kind?” Mason asked.
“The next two in your dragon series. And an astronomy book for Ethan.”
Ethan said, “I already have it.”
“You have the old edition.”
“I like the old one.”
Jonathan folded his hands.
“All right.”
Silence collected between them.
Mason opened a board game. Three blue pieces and one red piece remained in the box.
“We need four people.”
“We can improvise,” Jonathan said.
“You hate changing rules.”
A small sound escaped Ruth. It may have been a cough.
Jonathan looked at Mason.
“I don’t hate it.”
“You said rules stop games from being stupid.”
“I probably said that.”
“You did.”
“Then I was being rigid.”
Ethan glanced up. The word sounded rehearsed, though perhaps every adult now had words from evaluations.
Jonathan noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
Ruth said, “Mr. Reed.”
“I’m asking him to communicate.”
“You are directing him.”
Jonathan sat back.
“Fine.”
They played with Ruth as the fourth person. Jonathan lost twice. The second time, Mason laughed so hard he slid from his chair.
For a few minutes, Ethan forgot to be careful.
Then Jonathan reached across the table to steady Mason, and his silver watch flashed beneath his sleeve. Ethan saw the home office again—the sleeping computer, the dark screen waking, the progress bar crawling while voices argued downstairs.
He pushed his chair back.
“I need the bathroom.”
Ruth stood. “I’ll show you.”
In the hallway, Ethan pressed both hands against his stomach.
“Are you sick?” she asked.
“No.”
“Do you need the bathroom?”
He shook his head.
Ruth waited.
“I thought I did.”
They stood beside a vending machine that hummed loudly enough to fill the silence.
“Can I go home?”
“The visit has twenty-three minutes left.”
“Do I have to stay?”
“No one will physically force you. But I need to understand whether something happened in the room.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Did your father say something?”
“No.”
“Did he touch you?”
“No.”
“What made you want to leave?”
Ethan looked through the small window in the door. Jonathan was picking up game pieces while Mason watched.
“His watch.”
Ruth followed his gaze.
“What about it?”
“Nothing.”
She crouched without moving closer.
“Sometimes nothing is still enough to bring back a feeling.”
“I don’t want feelings to count.”
“Why?”
“Because then Dad wins. He says Mom is feelings and he is facts.”
Ruth remained quiet.
Ethan wiped his palms on his trousers.
“I can finish.”
“You don’t receive points for finishing.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He returned to the room.
Jonathan did not ask where he had been. That restraint seemed to cost him. His jaw shifted once, then settled.
At the end of the visit, Mason hugged him again.
Jonathan looked at Ethan.
“You don’t have to,” he said.
Ethan had expected anger, persuasion, or the soft voice his father used when other people were present. The absence of pressure confused him.
He stepped forward and allowed a brief hug.
Jonathan’s hand rested between his shoulder blades. For one second, the hold tightened.
Then Jonathan released him.
In the parking lot, Ethan cried without making noise.
Olivia did not tell him to stop. She sat beside him in the back seat while Daniel drove because reporters were waiting near her car. Mason watched through the opposite window and pretended not to notice.
The full forensic report came three weeks later.
Jonathan’s computer contained the original versions of fourteen files from the USB. Two of the corrupted recordings were partially recovered from unallocated storage. The third could not be reconstructed.
The recovered files created a problem no one had anticipated.
May you like
In one, Ethan’s voice could be heard speaking to Mason after Jonathan left the office.
“Just say it the way he wants,” Ethan told him. “Then he’ll stop.”
