Chương 7
“Why?”
“Because every check felt like agreement.”
“Agreement to what?”
“That we were something to be cleaned up.”
Adrian offered the envelope. Rachel did not take it.
“My mother’s attorney billed for communications management,” he said. “There is an authorization with my signature, but the page involving you may have been added later.”
“May have been.”
“Yes.”
“So you can’t prove it.”
“Not yet.”
Rachel folded her arms. The cardigan sleeve had begun to unravel at one cuff. She twisted the loose thread around her finger.
“I called the lawyer,” Adrian continued. “He would not say he represented me.”
“That means he won’t say he didn’t.”
“He never met with me about you.”
“Your mother did not need you in the room.”
“No.”
The word came out rough.
Rachel looked toward the street.
“Did she tell you I took the money?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“And left voluntarily.”
“Yes.”
“And you believed her.”
“I believed the part about the money because she had records.”
Rachel gave him a hard look. “You thought money proved choice.”
“I did.”
“There it is.”
“I was wrong.”
“You keep saying that like it has weight.”
“What would have weight?”
“Nine years.”
“I can’t give them back.”
“No.”
“Then tell me what I can do now.”
Rachel’s face tightened. “You don’t get an assignment, Adrian.”
“I’m not asking for one.”
“You are. You want me to hand you the correct sequence of actions so you can perform regret properly.”
A truck passed, rattling the loose gutter above them.
Adrian waited until the noise faded.
“I want to know Leo.”
Rachel’s eyes flashed. “You have known he exists for less than two days.”
“I know.”
“He is not a lost watch.”
“I know.”
“He does not belong to you because he has your nose.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
Adrian closed his mouth.
Rachel’s breathing slowed. She looked tired enough to sit but refused the porch chair behind her.
“He asked about you all night,” she said. “Not because he wants a father. Because he wants the truth to stop changing.”
“I can answer what I know.”
“You barely know anything.”
“Then I can tell him that.”
“He is nine.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t. He notices when I move bills from one side of the table to the other. He knows which weeks I buy meat and which weeks I say we’re eating lighter. He pretends he hates field trips if they cost money. He will study you the same way. He will look at your house and your car and Caleb’s six pairs of shoes, and he will decide there must be something wrong with him because you did not find him sooner.”
Adrian felt the words without defending against them.
Rachel rubbed the loose thread between her fingers.
“If you meet him,” she said, “you do not promise anything.”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t tell him he’s yours until there is a test.”
“All right.”
“You don’t speak to him without me there.”
“All right.”
“You do not bring your mother near him.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“And you stop using the school to get information.”
“Yes.”
Rachel looked at the envelope again.
“Leave that.”
He placed it on the porch chair.
“When?” he asked.
“I’ll talk to him.”
“That isn’t a time.”
“No. It isn’t.”
She went inside.
Adrian returned to the car with nothing settled. For the first time since the boy had appeared at his door, the lack of progress felt less like failure than a boundary he had managed not to break.
Three days later, Rachel agreed to meet at a diner beside the county library.
She chose a booth near the front windows. Leo sat beside her, wearing the white sneakers. Their soles were no longer spotless. A gray smear marked the left toe.
Adrian arrived without his uniform and without a driver. He wore a navy sweater and jeans. He had spent ten minutes deciding whether the sweater looked calculatedly ordinary, then hated himself for having the choice.
Leo watched him sit.
“You knew my name,” the boy said.
Rachel put down her coffee. “Leo.”
“It’s okay,” Adrian said.
Leo’s gaze sharpened. “I didn’t ask if it was okay.”
“No. You didn’t.”
Adrian folded his hands on the table. “Your mother and I chose the name before you were born.”
“Why?”
“She liked Leo because of her grandfather. I liked it because it was short.”
“You said it sounded like a cat.”
Rachel stared at him.
Adrian felt heat rise into his face. “I said a lion was a large cat.”
“You said our son would grow up selling expensive watches,” Rachel replied.
“I was twenty-nine.”
“You were an idiot.”
Leo looked between them. “You talked about me?”
“Yes,” Adrian said.
“A lot?”
“Every day for a while.”
“What happened?”
The waitress arrived with menus. Rachel ordered coffee she did not need. Leo asked for hot chocolate, then changed to water after checking the price.
Adrian noticed.
He nearly offered to pay, understood what Rachel had warned him about, and said nothing until the waitress left.
“I deployed,” he said. “That means the Army sent me away for work.”
“I know what deployed means.”
“Right.”
Rachel looked down at her cup to hide the beginning of a smile.
Adrian continued. “Your mother and I argued before I left. I wanted her to stay in my apartment. She wanted her own place.”
“You wanted to install me somewhere,” Rachel said.
“I wanted to know you were safe.”
“You wanted updates.”
“I wanted both.”
Leo rotated the paper napkin dispenser. “Then what?”
“I signed forms giving my mother authority to handle bills and mail while I was gone. Your mom received a letter that looked like it came from me.”
“Saying you didn’t want me.”
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
May you like
The answer came too quickly. Adrian slowed himself.
“I was scared,” he said. “I worried I would be gone when you were born. I worried I wouldn’t know how to be a father. But I wanted you.”
