Chương 6
He almost smiled.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was exact.
Rachel knew him.
That was part of the problem too.
Daniel leaned against a shelf.
“You want me to yell?”
“No.”
“Then what are you asking for?”
“I don’t know.”
They stood looking at each other, both breathing too hard for people speaking so quietly.
Finally Rachel moved past him.
“I’m going upstairs.”
Daniel watched her go.
She reached the bottom stair and stopped.
Without turning, she said, “The notebook isn’t a plan.”
“What is it?”
“It was what I wrote when I was scared.”
“Of me?”
Rachel stayed still.
“Sometimes.”
Daniel’s face emptied.
Rachel turned.
“Not like that.”
“Stop saying that.”
“I was never afraid you would hit me.”
“Then what were you afraid of?”
“That you’d make every reason I had for being unhappy sound stupid.”
Daniel stared at her.
She continued before he could answer.
“That you’d show me a spreadsheet proving I was wrong. That you’d tell me the kids were fine because their grades were fine. That you’d tell me we were financially okay because we still had retirement accounts. That you’d tell me you were grieving, which was true, and then there would be no room left for the fact that living with you had become exhausting.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
Rachel’s eyes held his.
“And I knew if I said I wanted to leave while your mother was dying, I would become the worst person in the story.”
Daniel’s voice dropped.
“So instead you became this person.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
They returned upstairs separately.
Daniel carried the black box.
Rachel walked three steps ahead.
When they entered the living room, Noah was sitting on the edge of the sofa, while Emily had curled into the corner with her knees tucked under her dress.
Neither child had turned on the television.
The broken picture remained on the floor.
Daniel set the box on the dining table, far enough from the edge that Emily could not accidentally reach it.
Then he went for the broom.
Rachel said, “I’ll do it.”
He looked at her.
“I broke it.”
Daniel handed her the broom.
That small surrender affected her more than he expected.
Rachel knelt and began collecting glass.
Noah watched.
After a moment he stood.
“I can help.”
“No,” both parents said together.
The word came so perfectly synchronized that under different circumstances they might have smiled.
Nobody did.
Rachel swept the larger pieces into a dustpan.
Daniel picked up the wooden frame by its edges.
The glass had cracked but not fully shattered. The family photograph beneath it was untouched.
Emily slid off the sofa.
“Is the picture ruined?”
“No,” Daniel said.
Rachel looked at the image.
“No. The picture’s okay.”
Emily approached until Daniel raised his palm.
“Shoes first.”
She stopped.
He went to the entryway, retrieved her small sneakers, and brought them over. Emily sat and put them on without complaint.
Daniel looked at the frame again.
In the photograph Rachel’s hand rested on his shoulder.
He remembered the exact moment after the picture had been taken. Noah had complained that his sweater was itchy. Emily had asked for cocoa. Rachel had stolen a marshmallow from Daniel’s mug and denied it while chewing.
His mother had been sitting ten feet away.
She had died six weeks later.
Daniel set the frame on the counter.
He did not try to make the image mean more than it did.
It was a photograph.
The four of them had been happy in that moment.
That did not prove they had been happy before it.
It did not prove they would be happy after it.
Rachel tied the garbage bag containing the broken glass.
Noah watched her carry it to the utility closet.
When she returned, he asked, “Are you getting divorced?”
Rachel stopped.
Daniel turned toward his son.
Noah looked irritated now rather than frightened.
Daniel understood that too.
Fear embarrassed him.
Anger gave him somewhere to stand.
Rachel opened her mouth.
Daniel said, “We don’t know.”
Rachel looked at him.
It was not the answer she would have chosen.
He could see that.
Noah frowned. “How can you not know?”
“Because grown-ups don’t know everything immediately.”
“That’s dumb.”
“Yes.”
Noah looked surprised.
Daniel sat in the armchair facing him.
“It is dumb.”
Emily climbed beside Noah.
Rachel remained standing.
Noah looked at her.
“Why is Grandma’s necklace downstairs?”
Rachel sat on the opposite end of the sofa.
Daniel did not interrupt.
Rachel looked at both children.
“I took it when I shouldn’t have.”
Noah’s eyebrows tightened.
“From Grandma?”
“After Grandma died.”
Emily whispered, “From the grave?”
Rachel’s face went white.
“No. No.”
Daniel saw Emily relax slightly.
Rachel continued carefully.
“It was before the funeral. It was with her things.”
“Why?”
Rachel looked at Daniel.
He gave nothing away.
“Because I was worried about money,” she said. “I thought I might sell it.”
Emily looked wounded.
“But it’s Grandma’s.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t sell Grandma.”
“No.”
Rachel almost smiled at the wording, then stopped herself.
“The necklace belonged to her. I was wrong to take it.”
Emily asked, “Did Daddy know?”
“No.”
“Did you lie?”
Rachel’s throat moved.
“Yes.”
Noah looked at Daniel.
“Did you know about the money?”
“Not all of it.”
“Were we poor?”
Daniel considered his answer.
“No.”
Rachel shifted.
Daniel continued.
“We had enough money to live. We also had bills and problems we weren’t talking about well.”
Noah looked from one parent to the other.
“You always say not to lie.”
Rachel’s eyes lowered.
“Yes.”
“That’s hypocritical.”
Daniel looked at his son.
Noah braced himself.
Daniel said, “It is.”
Rachel gave Daniel a brief look.
Not gratitude.
Something more complicated.
Noah asked, “So what happens when a parent lies?”
Daniel rubbed his palms together.
“That depends on the lie.”
“You ground Mom?”
Despite everything, Rachel let out a short laugh.
It sounded terrible in the room and strangely human.
May you like
Noah almost smiled.
Daniel covered his mouth for a second.
