Chương 11
Diane’s voice became brittle.
“I was trying to keep you from ruining your life.”
“Lily is my life.”
“You know that is not what I meant.”
“I don’t.”
“You could divorce Rachel tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“Then Lily would still be my daughter.”
“You say that like it’s simple.”
“It isn’t simple. It’s the point.”
Diane did not answer.
Evan’s throat hurt.
He had expected anger if this conversation ever happened.
He had not expected grief.
“You really think I should be able to leave her.”
“No.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I think a man should understand what he is giving up.”
“What am I giving up?”
“Freedom.”
A woman at the end of the aisle opened a freezer door.
Cold air moved across Evan’s hands.
He said, “She’s six.”
“I know.”
“You hit a six-year-old because she said out loud what you were saying about her.”
“I lost control.”
“You did.”
“I am ashamed of that.”
“Good.”
“That was cruel.”
“Yes.”
“I said I’m ashamed.”
“And I believe you.”
Diane inhaled.
The conversation changed slightly.
Evan could hear it.
She had expected disbelief to fight.
Belief gave her nowhere to go.
He said, “Being ashamed doesn’t mean Lily has to see you.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I’m trying.”
“That’s not the same.”
“No.”
He closed his eyes.
His mother sounded old.
Not weak.
Not transformed.
Old.
“I love her,” Diane said.
Evan opened his eyes.
“Then learn what that costs.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you don’t get to love her in a way that makes her responsible for your fear.”
Diane did not answer.
He looked at the two cartons of milk.
“I have to go.”
“Evan.”
“What?”
“I am sorry I made you think your fatherhood was conditional.”
His hand tightened around the phone.
It was the first thing she had said that reached the right wound.
He did not forgive her.
He did not tell her it was okay.
He said, “Thank you.”
Then he hung up.
He bought the wrong milk.
Lily complained.
Rachel laughed until she had to sit down.
The adoption hearing took twelve minutes.
After everything, twelve minutes felt insulting.
They waited much longer outside the courtroom.
Lily wore a navy dress she had chosen because she said it made her look “judge appropriate.” She carried the yellow-ribbon certificate in her backpack for reasons she would not explain.
Tom sat two rows away in the hallway.
Diane was not there.
Aaron was not there either.
His attorney had handled what needed to be handled.
When their names were called, Lily grabbed Evan’s hand.
Inside, the judge asked questions in a calm voice.
Evan answered.
Rachel answered.
Lily swung her feet beneath the chair until Rachel touched her knee.
The judge asked Lily whether she understood why they were there.
“To make Daddy official.”
The judge smiled.
“That is one way to put it.”
Lily leaned toward the microphone.
“He’s already my dad.”
Evan looked down.
Rachel took his hand beneath the table.
The judge reviewed several documents.
Melissa answered one question.
Then the judge looked at Evan.
“Do you understand that this creates a permanent legal parent-child relationship?”
“Yes.”
Permanent.
The word Diane feared.
The word Aaron had once avoided.
The word Evan had once confessed made him afraid.
“Yes,” he said again, though nobody had asked twice.
The judge signed.
No music swelled.
Nobody in the courtroom applauded.
A clerk handed Melissa copies.
Lily whispered, “Is that it?”
Rachel laughed quietly.
“That’s it.”
“We waited all that time for that?”
“Welcome to government,” Evan said.
Melissa coughed to hide a laugh.
Outside the courthouse, Tom took a photograph of the three of them.
Lily complained that the sun was in her eyes.
Rachel said her own hair looked terrible.
Evan forgot where he had parked.
It was one of the best mornings of his life.
They ate pancakes for lunch because Lily requested them.
At the restaurant she poured too much syrup and announced that being legally adopted made her hungrier.
Evan told her there was no medical evidence for this.
She said he was scientifically wrong.
Rachel kicked him lightly beneath the table.
For almost an hour nobody said Diane’s name.
Then Lily did.
“Does Grandma know?”
Rachel set down her fork.
Evan said, “Grandpa will tell her.”
“Is she sad?”
“Probably.”
“Because she lost?”
Evan looked at Rachel.
This was the sort of question adults could ruin by answering too much.
“I think she’s sad because she hurt people.”
Lily considered.
“Can she stop being my grandma?”
“No,” Evan said.
Rachel looked at him.
He continued.
“But being family doesn’t mean somebody always gets to be close to you.”
“Like Aaron?”
“Sort of.”
“Is Grandma in trouble forever?”
“I don’t know.”
Lily stabbed a piece of pancake.
“Dana says forever is too big when you’re mad.”
Evan smiled faintly.
“Dana sounds annoying.”
“She says grown-ups don’t like her sometimes.”
“That I believe.”
Rachel gave him another kick.
Months passed.
Not dramatically.
That mattered.
Lily started second grade.
Rachel changed shifts at the hospital and complained for three weeks about the new parking garage.
Evan’s retaining wall finally passed inspection.
Tom moved back home after six weeks but kept his separate bank account.
He and Diane started seeing a marriage counselor, a fact Tom announced with the same tone he used to discuss cholesterol.
“I don’t enjoy it,” he told Evan.
“That may mean it’s working.”
“That sounds like something people say about exercise.”
Diane did not ask to see Lily for two months.
Then she wrote again.
May you like
This time the letter was addressed to Evan and Rachel together.
I would like to apologize to Lily in person if you ever think that would help her. I understand the answer may be no. I will not ask her to forgive me or hug me. I will not discuss the adoption unless she brings it up. If I am not ready to hear no from her, then I am not ready to see her.
