Chapter 9
Dad’s trip went fine.
Mrs. Parker burned pancakes.
Grandma let us stay up too late.
Lily tried to teach me a dance she learned in class.
Nothing terrible happened.
That should have been normal.
Instead, it felt amazing.
When Dad came home, I ran outside before he even parked.
He hugged me.
“You survived.”
I grinned.
“So did the house.”
Mrs. Parker shouted from the doorway, “Barely!”
Dad laughed.
For a while, our lives became quieter.
Not easy.
Just quieter.
There were still meetings.
Lawyers.
Counselors.
Phone calls.
But the shouting stopped happening inside our home.
Amanda saw Lily twice a week.
Sometimes Lily returned happy.
Sometimes sad.
Sometimes angry.
One afternoon she came through the door and threw her backpack down.
“I hate counseling.”
Dad looked up.
“What happened?”
“Mom keeps saying sorry.”
Dad frowned.
“I thought you wanted her to.”
“I did.”
“Then what changed?”
Lily crossed her arms.
“She says it every five minutes.”
I understood.
Sorry could start feeling strange if nothing came after it.
Dad asked, “What do you want her to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.”
“She asked if I forgive her.”
Dad became still.
“What did you say?”
“I said I don’t know.”
“Good answer.”
Lily looked at me.
“Do you forgive Mom?”
Dad started to intervene.
I shook my head.
“It’s okay.”
Then I thought about the question.
“No.”
Lily looked sad.
“Never?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you hate her?”
I thought again.
“No.”
That surprised me.
Dad watched quietly.
“I don’t want her living here,” I said. “And I don’t want to be alone with her.”
“That makes sense,” Dad said.
“But I don’t want her to be sad forever.”
Lily hugged me.
“You’re nice.”
“I’m not being nice.”
“What are you being?”
I shrugged.
“Tired.”
Dad laughed.
“So am I.”
Six months after the recorder incident, the divorce became final.
Dad didn’t celebrate.
Neither did Amanda.
They signed papers.
Separated money.
Sold some things.
Amanda moved into a townhouse fifteen minutes away.
Dad kept our house.
The court created a parenting plan for Lily.
Daniel’s role was still being decided.
He had earned unsupervised daytime visits by then.
No overnights yet.
He never complained in front of Lily.
He came to her dance recital.
So did Amanda.
Dad sat on one side of the auditorium.
Amanda sat on the other.
Daniel sat three rows behind.
I sat beside Dad.
Before the show, I looked around.
“This is weird.”
Dad whispered, “Very.”
Then Lily walked onto the stage.
All three adults forgot they hated each other.
Amanda stood first.
Dad started clapping.
Daniel shouted, “Go, Lily!”
Lily smiled so hard she nearly missed her first step.
Afterward, she came running toward us wearing glitter and a blue costume.
She stopped when she saw everyone.
For one second, nobody knew what to do.
Then Dad opened his arms.
Amanda did too.
Daniel stayed back.
Lily looked between them.
Then she shouted, “Group hug!”
Dad looked horrified.
Amanda laughed.
A real laugh.
Daniel smiled.
Lily grabbed all of them.
It was awkward.
Terrible.
Perfect.
I stood outside the hug.
Then Lily reached for me.
“You too!”
I stepped in.
Amanda’s arm brushed mine.
I stiffened.
She immediately moved it away.
“Sorry.”
I looked at her.
She remembered my boundary.
That mattered.
After the recital, Amanda asked Dad if she could talk to me.
Dad looked at me.
My choice.
I nodded.
We stood near the parking lot.
Not alone.
Dad was ten feet away.
Amanda held something.
A small envelope.
“I found this while moving.”
She handed it to me.
Inside was a photograph.
My mother.
Sarah.
She was sitting on our old porch holding me.
I was maybe two.
My throat closed.
“Where did you get this?”
Amanda looked ashamed.
“It was in the desk.”
“Did you take it?”
She nodded.
My hand tightened around the photograph.
“Why?”
“Because I was jealous.”
“You already said that.”
“I know.”
“Why keep it?”
Amanda stared at the ground.
“I don’t know.”
I didn’t believe her.
“Tell me.”
She swallowed.
“Because after I took it, I couldn’t throw it away.”
“Why?”
“Because you loved her.”
I stared.
Amanda’s eyes filled.
“And even at my worst, some part of me knew destroying it would be cruel.”
“But you ripped the other one.”
“Yes.”
“So you were cruel anyway.”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
I looked at the photograph.
“Did Dad know this existed?”
“No.”
“Are there more?”
“One.”
She reached into her purse.
Another photograph.
Mom and Dad.
Their wedding day.
Dad looked young.
Mom looked happy.
Amanda held it carefully.
“This one belongs to your father.”
I took it.
“Why did you have it?”
“I found it years ago.”
“You stole it?”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
I felt angry again.
For months, I had started to think of Amanda as someone getting better.
Suddenly, I remembered the old Amanda.
The one who took things.
Controlled things.
Punished people.
“You shouldn’t have had these.”
“I know.”
I turned away.
“Ethan.”
I stopped.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
“I just wanted you to have them back.”
I walked to Dad.
He saw my face.
Then he saw the photographs.
His knees almost gave out.
“Where did you get these?”
I pointed at Amanda.
Dad looked at her.
She whispered, “I’m sorry.”
He stared at the wedding picture.
Then he started crying.
Not loudly.
Dad almost never cried loudly.
He just sat on the curb and looked at Mom.
I sat beside him.
After a moment, Amanda sat several feet away.
Daniel took Lily for ice cream so we had privacy.
Dad looked at Amanda.
“You took these?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I hated that she existed in places I couldn’t reach.”
Dad looked confused.
Amanda wiped her face.
“You loved her. She died. I could never compete with someone who couldn’t disappoint you.”
Dad stared at the photo.
“She disappointed me plenty.”
Amanda looked surprised.
Dad almost smiled.
“She hated folding laundry. She spent too much money on coffee. She once didn’t speak to me for two days because I forgot our anniversary.”
I laughed.
Amanda smiled through tears.
Dad continued.
“She wasn’t perfect.”
“I know.”
“No. You didn’t.”
Amanda looked down.
“You turned her into something impossible.”
Dad nodded toward me.
“And then you punished Ethan because he reminded you of that impossible person.”
Amanda whispered, “I know.”
Dad looked at her.
“Sarah would have hated what you did.”
Amanda flinched.
Dad continued.
“But she also would have wanted Lily protected from losing her mother.”
Amanda started sobbing.
I looked at him.
He wasn’t forgiving her.
He was telling the truth.
All of it.
Dad handed me the wedding photograph.
“Keep both.”
“What about you?”
“They’re yours.”
“But you loved her too.”
“I still have memories.”
“So do I.”
“Not enough.”
That hurt because it was true.
I hugged the pictures against my chest.
Later that night, Dad helped me put them in new frames.
One went on my desk.
One went on the shelf.
Lily came home with ice cream stains on her shirt.
She looked at the photo.
“That’s your mom?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s pretty.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think she would like me?”
I didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you give people chicken when they’re hungry.”
Lily smiled.
“That was one time.”
“It was important.”
She looked at Mom’s picture.
“Hi, Sarah.”
Dad stood in the doorway.
His eyes filled again.
Lily continued.
“I’m Ethan’s sister.”
I started crying.
She looked at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Then she put her arm around me.
Dad joined us.
Three people looking at a photograph of someone who was gone.
For once, missing Mom didn’t make our family feel broken.
It made it feel bigger.
Then the phone rang.
Dad checked it.
Daniel.
He answered.
His expression changed almost immediately.
“What do you mean she didn’t tell you?”
Silence.
Dad’s eyes moved toward Lily.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Tomorrow?”
He stood.
“All right. I’ll call you back.”
He ended the call.
Lily frowned.
“What?”
Dad looked at us.
“A court record was found.”
“What record?”
May you like
He hesitated.
Then said, “One Amanda never told anyone about.”
