Chương 9
“You looked at the floor plans?”
“Of course I looked at the floor plans.”
He nodded.
“The woodworking room is decent.”
Claire raised her eyebrows.
“So you’re already joining activities.”
“I said it exists. Don’t put me in a club.”
“Too late. I’m ordering you a name tag.”
“Claire.”
She smiled again.
The moment eased.
Then Henry said, “There’s another part.”
Her smile disappeared.
“What?”
“I picked the building on the far side of the property.”
“Okay.”
“It’s quieter.”
“Okay.”
“And they offered me an apartment in the closer building first.”
She waited.
Henry’s eyes stayed on the window.
“I turned it down.”
“Why?”
“It overlooked the parking lot.”
“That’s why?”
“No.”
Claire knew.
He rubbed his hands together.
“The closer building is near the family entrance.”
“So?”
“So people come and go.”
“Dad.”
He exhaled.
“I didn’t want you dropping in every day.”
Claire stared at him.
The honesty hurt more than if he had lied.
“You think I’d do that?”
“Yes.”
Her face warmed.
“Wow.”
“You asked.”
“I didn’t think the answer was yes.”
Henry looked at her.
“I love you.”
“That is not helping.”
“I know.”
She pushed away from the wall.
“So this is what you mean by room.”
“Partly.”
“You’re moving closer and choosing the farthest possible corner.”
“It’s seven hundred feet.”
“It’s the principle.”
“Yes.”
Claire laughed in disbelief.
Henry remained serious.
She turned toward the window.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Claire said, “Do I scare you?”
Henry looked startled.
“No.”
“As a caretaker.”
“You are not my caretaker.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He hesitated.
Claire’s throat tightened.
Henry looked down.
“I watched what happened with your mother.”
Claire went still.
“She needed me,” he said. “And I was glad to do it. Most days.”
Claire looked at him.
Henry’s voice grew rough.
“There were days I hated everything. Not her. Never her.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“The schedule. The medicine. Waiting rooms. How every conversation became about whether she had eaten. How guilty I felt when I wanted one afternoon where nobody asked me anything.”
Claire had never heard him say this.
Her mother’s illness had been brief by many standards and endless by theirs. Fourteen months between the first serious diagnosis and the funeral. Claire had been thirty, pregnant with Lily, trying to divide herself between a mother who hated being helped and a father who refused help until he snapped at someone for offering.
Henry continued.
“After she died, people told me I was wonderful with her.”
His mouth twisted.
“I wasn’t wonderful.”
“You were.”
“I got angry.”
“You were tired.”
“I lied to her once about an appointment because I wanted her to sleep.”
Claire stared.
Henry looked embarrassed even now.
“She found out from the office.”
“That sounds like Mom.”
“She was furious.”
“I can imagine.”
“She threw a sock at me.”
Claire laughed unexpectedly.
Henry did too.
Then his face settled.
“I don’t want you doing that with me.”
“Throwing socks?”
“You know what I mean.”
Claire looked at the snow.
“You’re not Mom.”
“Not yet.”
“Dad.”
“I’m not dying.”
“Then don’t say things like that.”
“I’m saying I don’t want your life shrinking around mine before it has to.”
Claire folded her arms.
“You don’t get to decide that for me.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Henry looked at her.
“Not very well.”
She breathed out.
They stood quietly.
A hotel employee pushed a cart from the elevator. They moved aside. The employee apologized though they were the ones blocking the hall.
When the cart disappeared, Claire said, “I don’t want to be your caretaker.”
Henry raised his eyebrows.
“Good start.”
“I want to be your daughter.”
His expression changed.
“And your daughter is allowed to worry when you fall.”
“Trip.”
She glared.
He sighed.
“Fall.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t enjoy it.”
“I am.”
Henry smiled faintly.
Claire continued.
“But I also don’t want Lily learning that people disappear whenever the adults decide the truth might upset her.”
Henry looked toward Claire’s room.
His smile vanished.
“The mirror.”
“Not just the mirror.”
“I know.”
“She asked why you didn’t tell her you were moving.”
“I didn’t know how.”
“She’s five.”
“Exactly.”
“That means you use small words, not silence.”
Henry rubbed his hands over his face.
“I know how to talk to children.”
“You know how to make children laugh.”
“That counts for a lot.”
“It does.”
The admission surprised him.
Claire looked at the closed room door.
“But she notices more than you think.”
“I noticed.”
They began walking back.
Near Henry’s room, he stopped.
“You think I should tell her everything?”
“No.”
“What do I tell her?”
Claire shrugged.
“The truth you actually know.”
Henry waited.
“You’re moving. You chose it. You’ll be closer. You’re still her grandpa. She can be sad and mad.”
“That sounds awful.”
“It is.”
“I prefer the mirror.”
Claire smiled.
“Clearly.”
Henry opened his door.
Before entering, he said, “I haven’t decided about the apartment.”
“I thought you said you weren’t canceling.”
“I’m not.”
“The far building?”
He nodded.
Claire looked at him.
“I won’t come every day.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know.”
“You would.”
She laughed.
“Probably.”
Henry smiled.
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
Claire returned to her room.
Lily was awake.
Her eyes opened the moment Claire approached the bed.
“Where were you?”
Claire stopped.
“Talking to Grandpa.”
“You left.”
“For ten minutes.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
Claire sat on the edge of the bed.
There it was again.
The adults had created a problem and then acted surprised when the child applied the lesson consistently.
“You’re right.”
Lily pulled the comforter to her chin.
“I’m sorry.”
“Is Grandpa here?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see him?”
“Yes.”
“Not in the mirror?”
Claire smiled.
“Not in the mirror.”
Lily’s eyelids lowered.
“Okay.”
Before Claire turned off the lamp, Lily said, “Tomorrow nobody disappear.”
Claire touched her hair.
“We’ll try.”
The next morning began with the disappearance of Henry’s car keys.
May you like
He discovered this at nine fifteen.
They were not in his coat.
