Chapter 7 - Walter Had Been Ready To Tell Leah Before Daniel Was
That was the first time Daniel looked genuinely blindsided.
“What are you doing?”
Walter entered.
Leah stood immediately.
I thought she might leave.
She didn't.
Walter stayed near the door.
“You said I decided everything.”
Daniel stared.
“You did.”
“Most of it.”
Walter looked at Leah.
“The last delay was yours.”
Leah’s expression changed.
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
Walter continued.
“Michael called me.”
“When?” Leah asked.
Walter looked at her.
“The week before graduation.”
She went still.
Michael had not only written.
He had called.
Walter said:
“He sounded sober.”
Leah laughed once.
“Sounded.”
“I know.”
He continued.
“He gave me his employer. Address. Counselor’s number.”
Daniel turned.
“You never told me that.”
Walter looked at him.
“I did.”
Daniel’s face changed.
Leah saw it.
I did too.
“What?”
Daniel looked away.
Walter continued.
“I told Daniel I was considering letting you take the weekend.”
Leah stared at Daniel.
He said nothing.
“When?”
“Three days before you found out about the letters.”
Leah’s eyes filled, but her voice did not change.
“What did you say?”
Daniel looked trapped.
Not by Walter.
By memory.
“I asked him to wait until after graduation.”
Leah did not move.
“Why?”
Daniel rubbed both hands over his face.
“We had plans.”
“What plans?”
“Graduation. The lake. You were supposed to start the summer job.”
Leah laughed.
“That was your reason?”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I thought if you went and your dad was doing well, you'd stay.”
She stared.
“And?”
Daniel swallowed.
“I didn't want you to.”
No childhood excuse.
No Walter.
His.
Leah walked to the window.
Mia looked over from the desks.
Leah smiled at her.
Small.
Then turned back.
“You told me for years your dad made you help.”
“He did.”
“And then he offered me one weekend.”
“Yes.”
“And you stopped him.”
“For a few days.”
Leah shook her head.
“You always loved days like they don't become years.”
Daniel flinched.
Walter started:
“Leah—”
She turned on him.
“Do not enjoy this.”
Walter stopped.
“This doesn't make you better.”
“I know.”
“You opened my mail.”
“Yes.”
“You kept my father’s number.”
“Yes.”
“You told me he would disappear again.”
“He did later.”
Leah stepped toward him.
“And I still had the right to find that out myself.”
Walter nodded.
“Yes.”
No defense.
Daniel looked at his father.
“You let me take the blame for the final letter all these years.”
Walter stared at him.
“I did not know you had kept telling yourself you were only following me.”
Daniel laughed bitterly.
“You knew exactly what I told Claire.”
“No.”
“I told everyone I was an only child.”
Walter’s face changed.
That one reached him.
“You did what?”
Daniel looked away.
Leah’s mouth tightened.
I had never seen a family discover its own erasure in real time.
Walter looked at me.
“He told you that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I almost laughed.
“You're asking the wrong person.”
Daniel stood.
“I didn't know how to explain her.”
Leah stared.
“Try.”
He looked at her.
“I didn't know how to call you my sister after helping make you leave.”
Silence.
Leah’s face changed, but not toward forgiveness.
More like the sentence had finally stopped insulting her.
Then Mia walked over.
“Mom?”
Leah looked down.
“Can Sophie come home with us?”
Every adult in the room froze.
Mia frowned.
“What?”
Leah crouched.
“Not today.”
“Why?”
Leah glanced at Daniel.
Then Claire.
Then Walter.
“Because the adults made a mess.”
Mia looked at Sophie.
Sophie said:
“They always say that when they mean no.”
I almost smiled.
May you like
Daniel did not.
He knew where Sophie learned it.
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