Chương 8
“Then don’t.”
Claire blinked.
Margaret’s voice was not cruel.
Just tired.
Claire absorbed that.
“You’re right.”
She sat again.
No apology.
Not yet.
Daniel appreciated that more than he expected.
A perfect apology would have been another performance.
He turned to Evelyn.
“Why did you stay away?”
She looked at Richard.
“Because I hated him.”
Richard gave a short breath.
Evelyn continued.
“And because I loved you.”
Daniel frowned.
“I barely knew you.”
“You were eight. You followed me everywhere.”
A memory stirred.
A girl cutting apples too thin because he hated thick slices.
He stared at her.
“You had a red Walkman.”
Evelyn’s face changed completely.
“Yes.”
“You wouldn’t let me touch it.”
“You broke everything.”
“I was eight.”
“You were talented.”
Daniel laughed.
A real laugh.
It lasted less than a second.
Then grief returned.
Evelyn looked down.
“I wanted to take you with me when I left.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I had three hundred dollars and a friend’s couch in Camden.”
Richard said quietly, “I told her I would have her arrested if she tried.”
Daniel looked at him.
Richard did not defend himself.
Evelyn rubbed her thumb along the edge of her phone.
“I believed him.”
“Would he have?”
She looked at Richard.
“Yes.”
Richard’s silence confirmed it.
Daniel leaned back.
The sky beyond the glass had gone fully dark.
The candles mattered now.
One of the venue employees approached.
“Mr. Mercer?”
Daniel looked up.
“I’m sorry. The planner asked me to let you know we need to close the rooftop by eleven.”
Daniel checked the time.
Eight thirty-seven.
Only four hours had passed since he had stood beside the floral arch thinking his biggest concern was whether he would remember his vows.
“Okay.”
The employee hesitated.
“Also, there’s a reporter downstairs.”
Everyone turned.
Daniel frowned.
“What?”
“A local entertainment site. They say they have footage.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Of course they do.”
Richard stood.
“I’ll handle it.”
Daniel said, “No.”
“Daniel, this is exactly what I do for a living.”
Richard had spent much of his career in corporate crisis consulting. He knew reporters. He knew statements. He knew how to reduce messy human events to three approved sentences.
“No statement tonight.”
“Silence creates a vacuum.”
“Then let it.”
Claire said, “My company is going to see this.”
She worked as vice president of communications for a luxury hospitality group.
The irony was vicious.
Daniel looked at her.
“Probably.”
She nodded.
He expected panic.
Instead she just sat there.
“My mother is going to have a stroke.”
Elaine, who had remained mostly silent, finally said, “I am standing right here.”
Claire looked at her.
“Sorry.”
“I’m not having a stroke.”
“Good.”
“I may kill your father.”
Claire almost smiled.
Daniel did not know whether she meant Claire’s father or Richard.
Neither did anyone else.
Elaine rose.
She walked to Margaret.
Claire stiffened.
Elaine looked at the mark on Margaret’s cheek.
“I’m Claire’s mother.”
“I know.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Margaret said, “You don’t have to say anything.”
Elaine looked at her daughter.
“No. I think somebody should.”
Claire’s face tightened.
Elaine turned back to Margaret.
“What she did was inexcusable.”
Margaret nodded.
“It was.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Elaine continued.
“She will apologize when she can do it without asking you to make her feel better.”
Margaret looked at her.
A small measure of respect passed between them.
Claire whispered, “Mom.”
Elaine did not look back.
“And if you decide you never want to see her again, I’ll understand.”
Margaret said, “Thank you.”
Elaine walked to Claire and kissed the top of her head.
Then she left.
The elevator doors closed.
Daniel looked at Claire.
“Your mom’s good at that.”
Claire stared at the floor.
“She gets it from nobody in the family.”
The ordinary humor gave them all three seconds of relief.
Then Daniel’s phone began vibrating in Marcus’s pocket.
Marcus removed it.
“It hasn’t stopped.”
Daniel held out his hand.
There were ninety-three notifications.
Videos.
Messages.
Missed calls.
A text from his managing partner:
I don’t care about gossip. I do care whether you’re okay. Call tomorrow, not tonight.
A message from a college friend:
Dude.
Another:
I deleted my video. Tell me if you need anything.
Three texts from numbers he did not know.
A photograph of the slap had already appeared online.
Claire’s face was clear.
Margaret’s too.
Daniel locked the phone.
“Turn yours off,” he told Claire.
“I already did.”
Richard said, “This is exactly why we need a statement.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“You really can’t help yourself.”
“This affects Daniel professionally.”
Daniel stared at his father.
“I’m going home.”
Richard stepped toward him.
“We need to finish this.”
“No. You need to leave me alone.”
“For how long?”
Daniel almost admired the question.
As if estrangement required scheduling.
“I don’t know.”
“Daniel.”
“I don’t know.”
Richard’s face changed.
Fear again.
Not fear of exposure this time.
Fear of losing him.
Daniel saw it clearly and wished he didn’t.
His father looked older when he was afraid.
“I made terrible choices,” Richard said. “But do not rewrite your entire childhood tonight.”
Daniel’s anger stirred.
Richard lifted a hand.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m asking you to remember accurately.”
“Accurately?”
“Yes. I was there.”
The words struck somewhere difficult.
Richard continued.
“When you broke your wrist at twelve, I slept in that plastic chair for two nights because you were afraid of surgery. When you failed calculus, I hired the tutor you hated and you passed. When your first girlfriend dumped you, you called me from a gas station at two in the morning because you were drunk and embarrassed and didn’t want your friends to know.”
Daniel remembered.
His father arriving in sweatpants under an overcoat.
Not yelling.
Buying him bad coffee.
Letting him sleep in the car.
Richard’s voice weakened.
“I lied to you about the worst thing I ever did. I also loved you every day.”
May you like
Daniel looked away.
There was no clean answer.
