Chapter 6 - My Own Fingerprints
I slept on Dad's couch with a blanket that still smelled faintly of the cedar chest Mom kept in her bedroom.
At five, I gave up pretending.
Dad was already in the kitchen.
"Coffee?"
"Please."
He poured it into my old high-school mug.
The handle had been repaired with yellowing glue.
"I missed your message," I said.
"I figured."
"That's not an excuse."
He leaned against the counter.
"I know."
I expected him to make it easier.
He'd spent my whole life doing that.
This time he let the silence stay uncomfortable.
"I'd like you to postpone Toledo."
"Why?"
"So we can figure things out."
"We?"
"You and me."
He stirred his coffee although he took it black.
"I won't be a reason you stay married or a reason you leave."
"That's not what I'm asking."
"Then don't make me a project because you feel guilty."
I sat back.
He hadn't raised his voice.
He didn't need to.
"What would help?"
"Ask me over yourself. Come by when there isn't a crisis. If I call, call back."
Simple things.
Things I'd been treating as optional.
At nine, I went home.
Karen sat at the kitchen island beside two untouched cups of coffee.
The table was still set.
The candles had burned into shallow pools.
"You made me look cruel," she said.
"I didn't write your words."
"You punished everyone. My brother drove two hours."
"I should have called the other guests. They didn't deserve to be caught in it."
She seized on that.
"Exactly."
"That doesn't make excluding Dad acceptable."
She looked away.
"My mother was uncomfortable last year."
"Because he discussed carburetors?"
"Because he doesn't fit."
The words sat between us.
No misunderstanding left to hide inside.
I opened the drawer where we kept cards and loose photographs.
Megan's graduation envelope was underneath a takeout menu.
Still sealed.
Karen reached for it.
May you like
I moved it out of reach.
"Before we discuss our marriage," I said, "you're going to tell me how many invitations you canceled in my name."
