Chương 9
Sophie was at school.
Dana read the report.
“Well.”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations on science confirming what everyone already knew.”
He folded the paper.
“I deserve that.”
“I’m running out of ways to insult you.”
“I can make a list.”
“Don’t be helpful.”
He almost smiled.
Dana pushed a legal pad toward him.
“I made rules.”
He read them.
No unannounced visits.
No promises about living arrangements.
No discussing custody with Sophie.
No gifts above fifty dollars without asking.
No telling school staff anything without Dana present.
No posting photographs online.
No using Maya to pass messages.
No asking Sophie to call him Dad.
The last rule hurt.
Dana saw.
“That one’s important.”
“I know.”
“She might someday.”
“I know.”
“She might not.”
He looked at the page.
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“My wife hates it too.”
“Your wife has excellent instincts.”
Ethan signed the page.
Dana blinked.
“I wasn’t asking for a signature.”
“I know.”
She stared.
He almost laughed.
“Sorry.”
Dana folded the paper.
“Sunday afternoon. Two hours. You can take her to the science museum.”
“Alone?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
“I’m coming.”
“Of course.”
“And she wants Maya there.”
That complicated things.
“I’ll ask Rachel.”
Dana watched him.
“You really do ask her now.”
“I’m learning.”
“Little late.”
“Yes.”
Rachel allowed Maya to go.
She did not go herself.
The four of them spent two hours at the Maryland Science Center.
Sophie loved the planetarium.
Maya hated sitting in the dark.
Halfway through the presentation, Maya whispered that Jupiter looked like a “dirty bowling ball.”
Sophie giggled so loudly a man in front turned around.
Ethan felt happiness for perhaps three seconds before guilt arrived to punish it.
He let both exist.
Afterward the girls argued over whether dinosaurs were better than space.
Dana bought coffee.
Ethan bought nothing because he was now terrified every purchase would be interpreted as compensation.
Sophie noticed.
“You don’t want a snack?”
“I’m okay.”
“You keep staring at the pretzel.”
Dana snorted.
Ethan bought the pretzel.
Sophie stole half.
On the drive home, Maya fell asleep against Sophie’s shoulder.
Sophie stayed perfectly still so she would not wake her.
Ethan watched them in the rearview mirror.
Dana saw.
“Don’t make it sentimental.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
He looked back at the road.
The visits continued.
Two hours became three.
Three became afternoons.
Sometimes Ethan went alone.
Sometimes Maya came.
Once Rachel drove Maya to Baltimore and stayed because traffic was too bad to justify returning immediately.
They ordered pizza at Dana’s apartment.
Nobody knew how to behave.
The girls solved that by fighting over a marker.
“It’s mine,” Sophie said.
“You said I could use it.”
“I said the purple one.”
“This is purple.”
“This is violet.”
“That’s the same.”
“It is not.”
Rachel looked at Dana.
“Should we intervene?”
Dana took a bite of pizza.
“Absolutely not.”
Ethan tried.
“There are other markers.”
Both girls yelled, “No!”
He sat back.
Rachel almost smiled.
Later, while the girls built a fort from couch cushions, Sophie accidentally called Ethan “Dad.”
Everyone heard.
Sophie froze.
Ethan did too.
Rachel’s eyes went to him.
Dana became very interested in her paper plate.
Sophie’s face reddened.
“I meant Ethan.”
He forced himself to remain still.
“You can call me Ethan.”
“Okay.”
She crawled into the cushion fort.
Five minutes later she emerged and asked him to hold a blanket.
Nobody mentioned it.
That night Ethan cried alone in the guest room.
Rachel heard him through the wall.
She stood outside the door for nearly a minute.
Then walked away.
Two months after the park, Rachel asked Ethan to move into an apartment.
He did not argue.
That frightened her more than an argument would have.
Maya cried.
She demanded to know whether Sophie had caused it.
Rachel answered too quickly.
“No.”
Maya did not believe her.
“She came and then Dad left.”
Ethan knelt beside her.
“I left because of something I did before Sophie was born.”
“But she told us.”
“No. I did.”
“You brought us to the park.”
“Yes.”
“If you didn’t tell, you’d still live here?”
Rachel and Ethan looked at each other.
Children were brutal logicians.
Ethan answered.
“Maybe.”
Maya burst into tears.
“Then telling was stupid.”
Rachel reached for her.
Maya pulled away.
“No!”
She ran upstairs.
Ethan sat on the bottom step.
Rachel leaned against the wall.
Neither followed immediately.
They had learned, painfully, that not every emotion needed to be chased.
After several minutes Rachel said, “She’s not entirely wrong.”
Ethan looked at her.
“About what?”
“Telling the truth destroyed the version of our life she knew.”
“It was already false.”
“She didn’t know that.”
He looked toward the stairs.
“Would you rather I hadn’t told you?”
Rachel considered.
“No.”
“Would you rather I’d never told Maya?”
“No.”
“Then—”
“That doesn’t mean honesty is painless. Stop wanting it to earn you something.”
He nodded.
Rachel sighed.
“I’m going up.”
“I’ll wait.”
Maya eventually allowed Ethan into her room.
She sat beneath her comforter with only her forehead visible.
He sat on the floor.
“I hate your apartment,” she said.
“You haven’t seen it.”
“I already hate it.”
“That’s efficient.”
No response.
He waited.
After a minute she said, “Does it have bugs?”
“I hope not.”
“Does it have a pool?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He almost smiled.
“Why good?”
“You don’t deserve a pool.”
That nearly made him laugh.
He kept it in.
“Fair.”
The comforter shifted.
“Are you and Mom getting divorced?”
“I don’t know.”
“Everybody knows when they get divorced.”
“Adults know less than you think.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Yes.”
She lowered the blanket.
“Do you still love her?”
“Yes.”
“Does she love you?”
Ethan’s throat tightened.
“You’d have to ask her.”
“She says some questions are private.”
“She’s right.”
Maya glared.
“I hate private.”
“I know.”
That word again.
He stopped himself.
Maya noticed.
“You were going to say I know.”
“Yes.”
“Mom hates when you say that.”
“I know.”
Maya stared.
May you like
Then laughed.
He laughed too.
