Chương 6
Sarah stared at him.
He continued before she could object.
“I wanted another chance. Then I got angry because she didn’t.”
“Daniel.”
Leo looked between them.
Daniel’s voice stayed calm.
“That’s true.”
Sarah said, “It is.”
“And now?” Leo asked.
Daniel rubbed his thumb against his palm.
“Now I think your mom may be right that living in two homes can be better than living in one home where the adults don’t trust each other.”
Leo’s face crumpled for the first time.
Not dramatically.
His lower lip folded inward.
He looked down.
“I can be quieter.”
Sarah felt the floor disappear.
“What?”
“I can stop coming downstairs when you’re arguing.”
“Oh, Leo.”
“I can use headphones.”
“No.”
“I can clean my stuff up better.”
Sarah moved before she thought about his earlier warning and stopped herself halfway across the carpet.
Leo looked at her.
She stayed where she was.
“This is not because you heard us argue,” she said. “This is not because of your room or your stuff or anything you did.”
He wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
“You said the house was stressful.”
“Because of us.”
“You said you were tired all the time.”
“Because of us.”
“You said Dad made everything harder.”
Daniel looked at Sarah.
She remembered saying it in the kitchen in October.
She had believed Leo was asleep.
Sarah closed her eyes briefly.
“I said that.”
Leo looked at Daniel.
Daniel’s face did not move.
Sarah forced herself not to defend the context.
“I should not have said that where you could hear it.”
“Was it true?”
“Yes.”
Daniel stood.
Sarah looked up.
He walked to the window and put both hands on his hips.
Leo watched him.
Sarah said, “And I made things harder too.”
Daniel turned.
“No.”
She stared at him.
He shook his head.
“Don’t do the equal-blame thing just because he’s here.”
“I’m not.”
“You were responding to me lying.”
“And then I punished you for months after you told the truth.”
“You didn’t trust me.”
“No. I didn’t.”
Leo covered his ears.
Both parents stopped.
Daniel’s face changed.
He sat down again.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Leo dropped his hands.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Yes,” Daniel said.
Sarah looked at the sock piles.
Blue.
Gray.
Green.
She said, “Can we make one rule?”
Leo shrugged.
“You never have to be in the middle of an argument between us. If we start doing this, you can tell us to stop.”
“You won’t get mad?”
“At you? No.”
Daniel nodded.
“You can say, ‘Not in front of me.’”
Leo considered that.
“Can I say, ‘Shut up’?”
Daniel almost smiled.
Sarah gave him a look.
Leo’s mouth twitched.
“No,” Sarah said.
“That seems unfair.”
“It probably is.”
For the first time since morning, Leo smiled.
It lasted less than a second.
It was still something.
He picked up the socks again.
“Grandma brought rolls.”
“I know.”
“I want another one.”
Sarah stood.
“So do I.”
Daniel remained seated.
Leo looked at him.
“You can have one.”
Daniel blinked.
“Thanks.”
“That wasn’t me being nice.”
“Understood.”
“It was just information.”
“Also understood.”
Leo left first.
Sarah paused at the door.
Daniel looked up at her.
She wanted to say something about what had happened.
Instead she said, “There are six rolls left.”
He nodded.
Human life, refusing to wait for emotional clarity.
That evening, after her parents left, nobody opened the presents.
Leo watched a movie on the sofa with Cooper pressed against his leg.
Daniel sat in the armchair.
Sarah sat at the other end of the sofa.
It was a Christmas comedy Leo had seen at least twelve times. He knew the lines before the actors said them. Usually Daniel told him that predicting dialogue was cheating.
Tonight nobody cared.
Halfway through the movie Leo fell asleep.
Sarah muted the television.
Daniel stood.
“I’ll carry him.”
She nodded.
He lifted Leo carefully.
At eight, Leo had become almost too heavy for it. His arms hung around Daniel’s neck. His cheek pressed against the shoulder of Daniel’s plaid pajama shirt.
Daniel stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
Sarah could see his throat move.
Then he carried their son up.
When he returned, he stood beside the tree and looked at the unopened packages.
“I bought too much.”
“So did I.”
“I thought…”
He did not finish.
Sarah understood anyway.
They had both shopped like people bribing the future.
She went into the kitchen.
Daniel followed.
“Do you want tea?”
“No.”
“I’m making some.”
“Okay.”
He filled the kettle.
Sarah leaned against the counter.
After a minute she said, “You can delay Tuesday.”
Daniel looked at her.
“What?”
“The move.”
“For Leo?”
“Yes.”
He turned off the faucet.
“Do you want me to?”
She hated the question because it contained several questions under it.
Do you want me here?
Do you want one more week?
Do you want to pretend?
Do you want to undo this?
Sarah crossed her arms.
“I think leaving four days after he finds out is brutal.”
“You picked the timing too.”
“I know.”
“We picked it because school is out and I can get the apartment set up.”
“I know.”
“So what changes if I delay?”
“He gets time.”
“To do what?”
“Adjust.”
Daniel stared at her.
“To me moving out?”
“Yes.”
“How does he adjust to something that hasn’t happened?”
Sarah looked away.
The kettle began to heat.
A faint metallic ticking came from the stove.
Daniel said, “If I stay two weeks, he’ll spend two weeks wondering when I’m going.”
“Then a week.”
“Sarah.”
“What?”
“We already made one bad decision because we were afraid to upset him.”
She said nothing.
Daniel leaned back against the opposite counter.
“If I delay because he’s upset, what do we tell him? That if he gets upset enough, I don’t have to leave?”
“You make him sound manipulative.”
“I’m talking about us. Not him.”
May you like
The kettle clicked off.
Daniel poured the water over a tea bag.
