Chapter 9
Vanessa’s baby was born in October.
Daniel told me after he had called Sophie. A boy, healthy, with a full head of dark hair. Sophie asked his name three times so she could practice saying it. They named him Noah.
The next day, she took her drawing off the refrigerator.
“I want to give it to him now,” she said.
Daniel and I agreed she would meet the baby for a short visit after Vanessa had recovered. I went with her. I waited in the living room while Sophie and Daniel went in to see Noah, then Vanessa invited me to come in.
She looked tired. Noah slept against her shoulder.
“Thank you for bringing Sophie,” she said.
“I wanted to know she felt comfortable.”
“She was gentle with him.”
Sophie stood beside Daniel, beaming.
“He held my finger,” she told me.
I smiled. The room contained a history none of us could erase. It also contained two children who had done nothing wrong.
On the drive home, Sophie asked if I liked Noah.
“He’s very small,” I said.
“That’s because he’s new.”
I laughed for the first time all day.
Daniel and I signed our divorce agreement in November. The house remained mine, as it had been before our marriage. He agreed to repay the money that had gone from our joint account, with the amount and schedule written into the settlement. We finalized our arrangements for Sophie, including how we would handle school events, holidays, and decisions about her care.
Priya walked me through the last page before I signed.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
I thought of the night I had stood at the front door with a suitcase.
“Yes.”
The final court date was set for December.
A week before it, Ruth sent a letter through her lawyer. She accepted that I did not want a relationship with her. She asked whether Sophie might visit someday if Daniel and I both agreed.
I did not answer immediately.
I asked Sophie what she remembered about Grandma.
“She makes good cinnamon rolls,” Sophie said. “I didn’t like when she told me you were making God sad.”
“I didn’t like that either.”
“Does she still think it?”
“I don’t know.”
Sophie considered the question.
“I don’t want to talk to her yet.”
“Then you don’t have to.”
I told Daniel what Sophie had said. He agreed to wait. He had been angry with his mother after the loan case, but he was still her son. I did not ask him to stop seeing her. I asked him to keep adult matters away from Sophie.
“I can do that,” he said.
At school, Sophie’s class held an evening show. Daniel came with me. We sat a few seats apart because Grace and Matt were there too. Sophie scanned the audience from the stage until she found both of us.
Afterward, she ran to Daniel first, then to me.
“You both came.”
“We said we would,” I told her.
She held one of his hands and one of mine while she told us how nervous she had been. Daniel and I exchanged a look over her head. Neither of us tried to pull her toward our side.
When the divorce became final, I walked outside into cold sunlight. I expected to feel joy or grief. I felt a deep tiredness, then relief.
Grace was waiting beside her car.
“How are you?” she asked.
“I think I’m ready to go home.”
We picked Sophie up together. I told her the court had finished the grown-up decisions and that our plans were settled. She asked whether she would still go to Dad’s apartment on Saturday.
“Yes.”
“And come back here after?”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
That was all she needed to know that afternoon.
In January, Daniel made the last payment required by our settlement ahead of schedule. I checked the bank record and sent him a message confirming it had arrived.
He replied:
Thank you for letting Sophie know I can still be her dad.
I stared at the words for a while.
Then I wrote:
That part is between you and Sophie. Keep showing up for her.
He answered that he would.
Later, I went to Sophie’s room to tell her dinner was ready. She was at her desk drawing three houses: ours, Daniel’s apartment, and Grace’s. Paths joined them.
“What are the paths for?” I asked.
“So I know how to get to everyone.”
May you like
I put my arm around her shoulders.
She had stopped asking whether one house had to disappear for the others to exist. I hoped she knew she could love everyone without taking care of any of us.
