Chapter 8
The divorce took months.
Dad did not tell me every argument. He told me the things that affected my life: where I would stay, who could visit, and what would happen when Claire collected the last of her belongings.
The money was handled separately.
An accountant reviewed the transfers from my savings. Dad provided the household statements. Claire eventually admitted she moved money without telling him, though she still said she meant to repay it.
I heard that from Dad after he met with his lawyer.
“Does meaning to repay it make it okay?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then why does she keep saying it?”
“I think she wants people to see her differently.”
I understood that feeling.
I had spent years trying to look less upset so people would think I was easier to love.
Dad’s lawyer advised him to make a formal report about the disputed transactions. He did. The bank supplied records, and an investigator asked questions.
I was not required to explain bank accounts.
That was a relief.
My part was smaller, though it still felt hard. Ms. Parker and Dr. Ellis helped Dad understand how the treatment at home had affected me. I kept talking about what happened when I remembered it.
Sometimes the memories arrived unexpectedly.
One evening, Dad asked me to take out the trash before dinner.
I froze.
He saw my face.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Then I corrected myself.
“It reminds me of the cake.”
He set the bag down.
“Thank you for telling me.”
“I can still do it.”
“I know. We can eat first.”
I did not want him to be afraid of asking me for anything. Dr. Ellis helped us talk about that.
“Ordinary chores are okay,” I told Dad later. “I just need to know dinner won’t disappear.”
“It won’t.”
He kept that promise.
Lily and Mason stayed mainly with Aaron while Dana helped with the arrangements. Claire saw them regularly. They did not stop being her children because she had hurt me.
Lily sometimes worried that loving me meant betraying her.
We talked about it on the phone.
“You can love your mom,” I said.
“Even when I tell you she was wrong?”
“Yes.”
“What if she says I shouldn’t?”
“Then ask Aaron or Dana.”
I had learned I did not need to have every answer for her.
Mason started meeting Dad and me at the basketball court. He was better than I was, but he stopped grabbing the ball from my hands before I could shoot.
One day he asked whether we were brothers.
I bounced the ball slowly.
“I don’t know.”
He nodded.
“Could we still play?”
“Yeah.”
That was enough for then.
Near the end of winter, Claire asked to send me a letter through Dad.
He read it first and asked whether I wanted it.
“Did she blame me?”
“Parts of it explain what she was feeling. She does say the cake was wrong.”
I thought about it.
“Can I read it with Dr. Ellis?”
“Of course.”
In the counselor’s office, I opened the envelope.
Claire wrote that she had been jealous of the way Dad loved me. She felt Mason and Lily entered a home full of memories of another woman and a child who already belonged.
She said she tried to make things equal.
I stopped.
“Taking my things didn’t make them equal.”
Dr. Ellis nodded.
“What else do you want to say?”
“She could have told Dad she felt left out.”
“Yes.”
I read the rest.
Claire said she should have saved me cake. She said she regretted keeping Mom’s things from me. She also said she hoped I would remember the good days.
I did remember them.
There were pancakes once. A movie night. A time she helped fix my school costume.
Those memories had made it harder to speak, not easier.
“Can I remember good things without seeing her?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Can I not answer?”
“Yes.”
I folded the letter.
I was not ready to reply.
At home, Dad asked whether I wanted to talk.
“I don’t need to today,” I said.
“Okay.”
He let that be the answer.
The next morning, I found a calendar on the refrigerator.
My thirteenth birthday was circled.
Beside it, Dad had written:
May you like
Ethan chooses everything.
I stood there smiling until he came in for coffee.
