Chương 9
"You can't recover them."
"I know."
"No, you know intellectually. You don't know it here."
She touched her chest.
He looked down.
"Probably."
"You keep trying to make every visit matter."
"I only get one day a week."
"So you take him to museums and games and restaurants and buy him things."
"I don't buy him that much."
"You bought him a telescope."
"He likes space."
"He also likes sitting on the floor eating crackers."
Ethan looked offended.
"I can provide crackers."
Claire laughed.
He did too.
Then she became serious.
"Be boring with him."
"What?"
"Be boring."
"That's your parenting advice?"
"Yes."
"You're terrible at this."
"Try it."
He did.
The next Friday, Ethan took Noah nowhere.
They stayed at his rented apartment.
Noah complained for twenty minutes.
Then they built a blanket fort, burned grilled cheese, argued about whether sharks slept, and watched half a baseball game.
Noah fell asleep against Ethan's shoulder.
Ethan didn't move for forty-three minutes because he was afraid waking him would end something.
When Claire arrived, she found them there.
She stood in the doorway.
Ethan looked at her.
Neither spoke.
Noah's mouth was slightly open.
One sock had come off.
Claire crossed the room, picked it up, and put it on the coffee table.
"He drools," she whispered.
"I noticed."
"You can move."
"I know."
"You look uncomfortable."
"My arm is dead."
Claire smiled.
"Welcome to parenting."
Ethan looked down at Noah.
"I think I like the boring part."
Claire's smile faded into something softer.
"So does he."
Richard withdrew his petition in August.
No explanation.
Two weeks later, Ethan received a package.
Inside were Margaret's journals.
Richard had sent them.
There was no note.
Ethan did not open them for three days.
When he finally did, he called Claire.
She came over after the children were asleep.
They sat at his kitchen table.
Margaret's handwriting covered dozens of notebooks.
Ethan had marked one page.
December 24.
Claire read silently.
Richard has frightened her beyond reason. Perhaps not beyond reason. I no longer know what Richard considers acceptable when he believes Ethan is threatened.
Claire stopped.
Below it:
I told C that Ethan had chosen us over her. It was cruel. It worked. She agreed to leave tonight. I have arranged the apartment through Helen. Richard believes she is going to Seattle. I told him the pregnancy would be resolved. God forgive the language we use when we are afraid.
Claire's hands shook.
She kept reading.
Ethan will hate me if he learns this. That may be the price. If I tell him where she is, he will follow. Richard will follow him. C believes she can raise the child alone. I do not believe anyone should have to. But tonight safety matters more than fairness.
Claire closed the journal.
Ethan looked at her.
"She knew."
"Yes."
"She knew I was keeping Noah."
"Yes."
"She knew you wanted me."
His eyes filled.
"Yes."
Claire pushed the journal away.
For years she had imagined Margaret Cole as a frightened accomplice who became compassionate too late.
The truth was worse.
And better.
Margaret had saved Claire by destroying Ethan.
She had protected Noah by stealing his father.
There was no clean moral category for it.
Claire hated her.
Claire loved her a little.
That was unbearable.
"There's more," Ethan said.
"I don't want more."
"You should."
"No."
"Claire."
"I said no."
She stood.
Ethan didn't stop her.
At the door she turned.
"Did she ever try to tell you?"
Ethan looked down.
"Yes."
Claire froze.
"When?"
"Before she died."
"What happened?"
"I wouldn't listen."
The answer surprised her.
Ethan rubbed his face.
"She said there were things about you I didn't understand. I told her I didn't want to hear your name."
Claire sat down again.
"Why?"
"Because I was engaged."
She stared at him.
"I didn't know."
"It ended."
"When?"
"Two months before Mom died."
Claire looked away.
Ethan continued.
"I'd spent years being angry at you. Anger was useful. It kept me from wondering whether I'd done something wrong."
"You didn't."
"I stopped looking."
"You thought I left."
"I loved you."
Claire looked at him.
"If someone I loved vanished today, I'd look harder."
Neither spoke.
Finally Claire said, "We were both easier to manipulate than we'd like to admit."
"That's romantic."
"It wasn't meant to be."
"I know."
She laughed quietly.
Then she cried.
Not because of Ethan.
Not entirely.
She cried for Margaret, whom she could no longer hate simply.
She cried for the woman she had been, pregnant and frightened in a borrowed car, driving south with five thousand dollars in an envelope and believing the man she loved had abandoned her.
Ethan sat across from her.
He did not touch her.
That was the kindest thing he could have done.
In September, Noah started first grade.
Ethan attended the school picnic.
Claire introduced him to another parent as "Noah's dad."
It was the first time.
Ethan heard.
He said nothing until later.
Then, beside Claire's car, he asked, "Did you mean that?"
She frowned.
"What?"
"What you called me."
Claire looked toward Noah, who was showing Lily a worm.
"That's what you are."
Ethan nodded.
His eyes lowered.
"Okay."
Claire smiled.
"You're ridiculously emotional for someone who owns four black shirts that look exactly alike."
"They're different."
"They're not."
"One is charcoal."
"Seek help."
He laughed.
Noah looked over.
"Are you guys getting married?"
Both adults stopped.
Claire said, "No."
Ethan said, "What?"
Noah shrugged.
"You laugh now."
"People can laugh without getting married," Claire said.
"I know."
"Good."
"Are you dating?"
"No," Claire said.
Ethan said nothing.
Claire looked at him.
He became extremely interested in Lily's worm.
That night, after the children were asleep, Claire texted him.
Were you going to answer?
He replied:
I value my life.
She stared at the message.
Then:
Coward.
His reply came:
Absolutely.
They did not date.
May you like
Not then.
They had too much unfinished business and enough sense, finally, to know affection did not erase damage.
