Chương 11
Daniel knew how destabilizing contradiction could be.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
“Contacting you.”
“No. I’m glad you did.”
She paused.
“I’m just not glad it’s true.”
Daniel understood exactly.
They spoke for forty minutes.
Mostly about ordinary things.
Megan was a dental hygienist.
She had two sons.
She hated olives.
Daniel hated olives too.
They both noticed the coincidence and then became uncomfortable about noticing it.
Biology had become a room full of traps.
Before hanging up, Megan said, “Do you want to meet?”
Daniel looked toward Rachel.
She was pretending not to listen from the couch.
“Yes,” he said.
“I think so.”
The meeting happened at a diner halfway between them.
Megan arrived first.
Daniel recognized her immediately.
Not because she looked like him.
Because she looked like Michael in the only photograph Eleanor had eventually shown him.
That hurt in an unexpected way.
Megan stood.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
They hugged awkwardly.
Then both laughed.
“This is weird,” she said.
“Extremely.”
They ordered coffee.
For twenty minutes they talked about nothing important.
Work.
Traffic.
Her sons.
Rachel.
Then Megan slid an envelope across the table.
“What’s this?”
“Dad wrote it.”
Daniel did not touch it.
“To me?”
“Yes.”
“What does it say?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked at her.
“You didn’t read it?”
“No.”
Apparently sealed letters were becoming a family tradition.
Daniel put it beside him.
“Is he coming?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
“Yes.”
Daniel nodded.
He was relieved.
He was disappointed.
Both feelings sat together without canceling each other.
Megan stirred sugar into her coffee.
“He’s ashamed.”
“Good.”
She looked up.
Daniel regretted it.
Then did not.
“He should be.”
“Yes.”
Megan put down the spoon.
“But he’s still my dad.”
Daniel met her eyes.
“I know.”
The words mattered.
Megan relaxed slightly.
“I don’t want you to think I’m defending what he did.”
“You don’t have to stop loving him for me.”
She stared at him.
Then looked down quickly.
“Thank you.”
Daniel understood then that truth did not merely free people.
Sometimes it assigned them work they had never requested.
He opened Michael’s letter in the parking lot afterward.
It was short.
Michael admitted the relationship.
Admitted Daniel was likely his son.
Admitted he had known Eleanor was pregnant.
He apologized.
Then he spent three paragraphs explaining his fear, his marriage, his daughters, his career, Eleanor’s addiction.
Daniel folded the letter before finishing.
He put it in the glove compartment.
Months later, it was still there.
The legal process moved slowly.
Nina helped Daniel petition to correct his birth record.
There were affidavits.
Certified copies.
A DNA report.
Eleanor’s testimony.
Claire’s testimony.
Susan’s.
Daniel had expected Claire to resist.
She did not.
When asked to provide a sworn statement describing the false affidavit she signed in 1992, Claire did it.
She did not minimize.
She did not blame Tom.
She did not blame Howard.
She wrote:
I knew the statement was false when I signed it. I believed I was protecting Daniel, but I also wanted to prevent Eleanor from taking him from us. My fear does not make the statement true.
Daniel read that paragraph several times.
He called her.
“I got your affidavit.”
“I know.”
“You could get in trouble.”
“I know.”
“Nina says prosecution is unlikely after this much time, but she won’t promise.”
“I know.”
“Why’d you write it like that?”
Claire was quiet.
“Because you asked me not to lie anymore.”
Daniel looked down.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“That’s all I have.”
“I’ll take it.”
Eleanor’s health worsened in the fall.
Treatment stopped working.
She called Daniel herself.
“The doctor used the phrase quality of life six times.”
Daniel sat on the edge of his bed.
“What do you want?”
“To go home.”
“Louisville?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll need help.”
“I know.”
He waited for her to reject it.
She surprised him.
“Can you help me arrange it?”
So he did.
Not alone.
A hospital social worker organized home hospice.
Megan helped one weekend.
Susan came twice.
Claire did not come.
Daniel noticed.
He did not ask why until Eleanor did.
“She still hates me.”
Daniel adjusted the blanket over Eleanor’s legs.
“No.”
“She does.”
“She’s afraid of you.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“People are ridiculous.”
Eleanor smiled faintly.
“True.”
Daniel sat beside the window.
Autumn rain tapped against the glass.
“Do you want her here?”
Eleanor considered it.
“Yes.”
He called Claire.
She arrived the next afternoon.
Daniel opened Eleanor’s apartment door.
For a moment he saw the old doorway superimposed over this one.
Claire stood in a beige coat, holding a grocery bag.
“What’s that?”
“Soup.”
“Of course.”
“What does that mean?”
“You bring food to emotional emergencies.”
“I didn’t know what else to bring.”
“A pie, apparently.”
Claire looked confused.
“Aunt Susan.”
“Oh.”
She stepped inside.
Eleanor was awake in the bedroom.
Claire stopped at the doorway.
Neither woman spoke.
Daniel started to leave.
Eleanor said, “Stay.”
So he stayed.
Claire sat in the chair beside the bed.
“You look terrible,” she said.
Eleanor smiled.
“You look old.”
“I am old.”
“You were always old.”
Claire laughed.
Then covered her mouth.
Daniel looked away.
They talked for nearly an hour.
Not about Daniel at first.
They talked about Susan.
About Eleanor’s mother.
About a restaurant that had closed in 1997.
About Tom.
Claire told a story Daniel had never heard about Tom accidentally setting a dish towel on fire while trying to cook Thanksgiving dinner.
Eleanor laughed until she coughed.
Then the old wound returned.
“I hated you,” Eleanor said.
Claire nodded.
“I know.”
“I hated you because you had him.”
“I know.”
“I also knew he was safe.”
Claire looked down.
“That doesn’t excuse what we did.”
“No.”
“I wish I had done it legally.”
Eleanor’s eyes sharpened.
“You wish you’d won legally.”
Claire absorbed that.
“Yes.”
Daniel watched her.
She did not defend herself.
Eleanor continued.
“And I wish I had been someone who could’ve taken care of him.”
Claire said, “You tried.”
“Not hard enough.”
May you like
“Sometimes you did.”
Eleanor looked surprised.
