Chương 15
Claire kept the old engagement ring in a small wooden box in her bedroom.
She had not returned it to Damian.
She had not worn it.
It belonged to a life that had existed.
That was enough.
Later that night, after Evan left and Lily fell asleep, Damian helped Claire gather paper plates from the living room.
He found frosting on the wall.
“How?”
Claire looked.
“No idea.”
“It’s four feet above her head.”
“She has ambition.”
Damian wiped it with a damp towel.
Claire watched him.
“Are you happy?”
He stopped.
“What kind of question is that?”
“A question.”
He thought about it.
“Sometimes.”
She nodded.
“You?”
“Sometimes.”
He threw the towel into the sink.
“Better answer than six months ago.”
“Yes.”
They stood in the kitchen.
Outside, traffic moved along the avenue.
Someone downstairs was playing music too loudly.
A dog barked from another apartment.
No orchestra.
No champagne glasses.
No revelation waiting in an envelope.
Damian leaned against the counter.
“I still love you.”
Claire looked at him.
He did not step closer.
Did not make the sentence larger.
“I know.”
“I’m not asking anything.”
“I know.”
“I thought maybe saying it was better than hiding it.”
Claire smiled faintly.
“Progress.”
“Painful progress.”
She looked toward Lily’s bedroom.
“I love you too.”
Damian closed his eyes briefly.
Claire continued.
“That is also not a decision.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
“I don’t know whether we can be what we were.”
“We can’t.”
The immediate answer surprised her.
Damian looked at the floor.
“Those people are gone.”
Claire thought about the woman who had trusted him without asking about missing money.
The man who had believed love might make addiction disappear if he hid it long enough.
She thought about everything six years had changed.
“Good,” she said.
Damian looked at her.
“Good?”
“I don’t want to be them.”
He smiled.
“Me either.”
In June, Richard asked Claire to have dinner.
Alone.
She almost refused.
Then agreed.
They met at a small Italian restaurant where Richard complained that the tables were too close together.
Claire smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“You haven’t changed completely.”
Richard looked offended.
“I have never claimed to be comfortable eating six inches from strangers.”
They ordered.
For fifteen minutes, they talked about ordinary things.
Megan’s new apartment.
Helen’s garden.
Lily’s obsession with dinosaurs.
Then Richard placed his fork down.
“Does Damian intend to move in with you?”
Claire looked at him.
“No.”
“Good.”
She raised an eyebrow.
Richard sighed.
“Sorry.”
“That was fast.”
“I am learning.”
“Slowly.”
“I’m sixty-four.”
“You had time.”
He accepted that.
Claire drank water.
Richard folded his napkin.
“I have been seeing someone.”
Claire froze.
“A woman?”
“A therapist.”
She laughed before she could stop herself.
Richard looked irritated.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“I’m a little sorry.”
He almost smiled.
Then his expression changed.
“I keep wanting him to tell me I did the right thing for the wrong reasons.”
Claire said nothing.
“He does not.”
“I like him.”
“So do I, unfortunately.”
Richard looked toward the window.
“I still think Damian was dangerous then.”
Claire nodded.
“He was.”
Richard looked surprised.
“He was lying. He was addicted to pills. He had no business pretending he was ready for marriage.”
“Yes.”
Richard leaned forward.
“And that doesn’t change what you did.”
His face hardened automatically.
Then relaxed.
“No.”
Claire watched him.
He continued.
“I could have told you.”
“Yes.”
“I could have told him there was a child and insisted on treatment before contact.”
“Yes.”
“I could have hired attorneys.”
“Yes.”
“Asked for supervised visitation.”
“Yes.”
“Done any number of things.”
“Yes.”
Richard looked down.
“I wanted certainty.”
Claire waited.
“And people are easier to manage when only one of them has the information.”
There was no excuse after it.
Claire felt tears come unexpectedly.
Her father looked at her.
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded.
It still was not enough.
But it was finally an apology.
“Thank you.”
He swallowed.
“Will you forgive me?”
“Not tonight.”
Pain crossed his face.
Claire did not rescue him from it.
He nodded.
“All right.”
When dinner ended, Richard reached for the check.
Claire took it first.
He frowned.
“I invited you.”
“I know.”
“I can pay for dinner.”
“I know.”
“Claire.”
She smiled.
“I’ve got it.”
He looked as though he wanted to argue.
Then he leaned back.
“Fine.”
Claire paid.
Outside the restaurant, Richard kissed her cheek.
They went in opposite directions.
No dramatic reconciliation followed.
The next week they argued over Lily’s summer schedule.
Two weeks later Claire called him for advice about a contractor and then became furious with herself for doing it.
A month later he attended one of Lily’s soccer games and stayed on the opposite side of the field from Damian.
At halftime Damian walked over.
Claire tensed.
Richard tensed.
Damian held out a paper cup.
“Coffee.”
Richard looked at it.
“Why?”
“Because Claire said you forgot yours.”
Richard took the cup.
“Thank you.”
Damian nodded.
They stood beside each other for approximately eleven seconds.
Then Richard said, “She kicks with the wrong foot.”
Damian looked at him.
“She’s seven.”
“I’m making an observation.”
“Make fewer.”
Richard looked offended.
Damian walked away.
Claire laughed so hard she spilled her own coffee.
Nothing became simple.
That became the shape of peace.
In October, six years to the week after the accident, Claire drove to the cemetery.
She had not visited the memorial since the wedding.
The granite marker still said DAMIAN CROSS.
1986–2020.
A dead man with a Brooklyn apartment and a parent-teacher conference scheduled for Tuesday.
Claire brought no flowers.
She stood looking at the stone.
Then she called Damian.
He answered.
“Everything okay?”
“I’m at your grave.”
Silence.
“That is a strange sentence.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve never seen it.”
“You want to?”
Another pause.
“No.”
Claire looked at the marker.
“Good answer.”
“What are you doing there?”
“I don’t know.”
A lawn mower moved somewhere beyond the trees.
May you like
Dry leaves scratched across the pavement.
Claire sat on the grass.
