Chương 9
Not close.
Just beside him.
Lily looked up from her coloring book.
“You guys are being weird.”
Emily said, “Color.”
Lily returned to her page.
Daniel whispered, “She gets that from you.”
“She gets everything inconvenient from me.”
“That’s not true.”
“No?”
“She gets the terrifying eye contact from my father.”
Emily covered her mouth to stop herself laughing.
Daniel smiled.
Then the nurse called Lily’s name.
They stood together.
The hotel stabilized slowly.
The family did not.
Daniel’s cousins sued the trustee, claiming Thomas had manipulated the restructuring to punish Daniel and had undervalued certain family interests.
The lawsuit lasted eight months.
It did not produce a dramatic courtroom confession.
It produced invoices.
Depositions.
Motions.
Scheduling emails.
Bills.
Lots of bills.
Emily gave a deposition for six hours in a conference room where the air-conditioning was too cold.
Opposing counsel asked whether she hated Daniel.
Her attorney objected.
Emily answered anyway.
“Sometimes.”
The lawyer blinked.
“Sometimes?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hate him when you structured the acquisition?”
“No.”
“How can you be certain?”
“Because I was too busy.”
The transcript later made Daniel laugh.
He was not supposed to see it before discovery formally circulated it, but eventually he did.
He texted:
Too busy to hate me?
Emily replied:
You underestimate spreadsheets.
He sent back:
Always have.
She stared at the message for a long time.
Then put the phone down.
They were not friends.
That distinction mattered to her.
They were becoming something without a useful name.
Parents, obviously.
Former spouses.
Occasional allies.
People who had hurt each other enough to know where the scars were.
Daniel still disappointed her.
He missed one school performance because a meeting ran late.
Lily cried in the car.
Emily wanted to call and destroy him.
Instead she waited until Lily was asleep.
Then she called.
“You missed it.”
“I know.”
“She kept looking at the door.”
Silence.
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to show up.”
“I was in a meeting.”
“Leave.”
“I couldn’t.”
“You could.”
“That’s not how everything works.”
“No, Daniel. That’s how priorities work.”
He became angry.
She became angrier.
They said things they regretted.
Then Daniel said, “You think because you left me you became morally superior.”
Emily went quiet.
“That’s not what we’re talking about.”
“It’s always what we’re talking about.”
“No.”
“Yes. Every mistake I make is evidence. Every mistake you make is context.”
The sentence landed.
Emily hated it because part of it was true.
She ended the call.
The next morning she texted:
You were right about one thing. I give myself context I don’t always give you. You still should have been there.
Daniel replied:
Both can be true.
He took Lily to breakfast.
Three weeks later Emily forgot Lily’s class picnic.
Completely.
Her assistant reminded her at 11:40.
The picnic had started at eleven.
Emily arrived at 12:16 carrying grocery-store cookies because there was no time for anything else.
Lily was sitting with Daniel.
He had come.
Emily stopped at the edge of the park.
Daniel saw her.
He could have smiled.
He could have enjoyed it.
Instead he moved his bag off the blanket.
“Hey.”
Emily sat.
“I forgot.”
“I figured.”
“I’m a terrible mother.”
Lily looked up.
“No, you’re not.”
“I forgot your picnic.”
“Daddy brought chips.”
Daniel held up the bag.
“Apparently absolution is available in barbecue flavor.”
Emily laughed.
Then, to her horror, she cried.
Daniel looked alarmed.
“Hey.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re crying over chips.”
“I’m aware.”
Lily handed her a napkin.
Emily wiped her face.
Parents around them politely pretended not to watch.
“I’ve been working too much,” Emily said.
Daniel did not say yes.
That was a kindness.
She looked at him.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.”
The words hurt.
Because once, years ago, she had begged him to say them.
Of course I’ll come.
Of course I’ll help.
Of course she matters more than work.
Now he said them without thinking.
Too late for their marriage.
Not too late for Lily.
That became the shape of the next year.
Not redemption.
Practice.
Daniel learned to tell the truth sooner.
Sometimes.
Emily learned not to interpret every mistake as proof that nothing had changed.
Sometimes.
Vanessa disappeared from their lives for several months.
Then, unexpectedly, she emailed Emily.
I’m getting married.
Emily stared at the message.
Below it:
Not Daniel. Obviously.
Emily laughed aloud.
The wedding would be small.
Vanessa did not ask Emily to attend.
She asked whether she could apologize to Lily.
Emily considered it for three days.
Then she asked Lily.
“Do you remember Vanessa?”
“The hitting lady?”
“Yes.”
“Is she still mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“She wants to apologize.”
Lily thought about this.
“Okay.”
They met in a café.
Vanessa wore jeans and a gray sweater.
Without the champagne-colored dress, the diamonds, the ballroom, and the fury, she looked younger.
Nervous too.
Lily drank hot chocolate.
Vanessa said, “I did something very wrong when I hit your mom.”
Lily nodded.
“I know.”
Vanessa glanced at Emily.
Emily looked away to hide a smile.
“I was angry,” Vanessa continued, “but being angry didn’t make it okay.”
“No.”
“No.”
Lily stirred whipped cream into her drink.
“Are you going to do it again?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
That was apparently enough for Lily.
Vanessa looked at Emily.
“Is that it?”
Emily shrugged.
“You were expecting restorative justice?”
“I don’t know what I was expecting.”
Lily said, “What’s restorative justice?”
“Nothing,” both women said.
They laughed.
Vanessa’s eyes filled.
She looked down.
“I’m sorry,” she told Emily.
“I know.”
“I was awful to you before that too.”
“You were.”
“I believed a lot of things Daniel told me.”
Emily waited.
Vanessa shook her head.
“That’s not an excuse.”
“No.”
“I hated you.”
“I noticed.”
“I thought you were this manipulative ex-wife waiting around to ruin his life.”
“I had a job.”
“I know that now.”
Emily smiled.
“Very demanding.”
May you like
Vanessa laughed.
Then she wiped beneath one eye.
