Daniel looked at the report and it became my father's. Frank did not answer. That silence was answer enough. Laura looked at Daniel. He had brought the box across states expecting an explanation.
Instead, he had found a man who had spent decades becoming skilled at not giving one. She understood the irritation on Daniel's face. Frank folded the page again. Samuel made his choice. "And you let him?"
Laura asked. Frank looked at her sharply. "You think 30 years happens all at once? First, you wait a week because you're angry, then a month because you're stubborn. After that, calling feels harder than staying quiet.
Daniel's hand rested on the box. No one made a joke then. Daniel's face hardened slightly. My father died with this in a box addressed to you. I noticed.
He tried. Frank looked up. 30 years late. Daniel did not move. Still tried.
The room went quiet. Laura felt something shift between them. Not agreement. Recognition. She looked at her father.
Why didn't you ever tell me any of this? Frank folded the report once because not every old wound improves when inspected. Laura laughed once without humor. You inspect mine constantly. Frank looked at her.
There it was. The argument they had been circling all evening. Laura crossed her arms. Was tonight really about me bringing a man home? Frank answered immediately.
No. That caught her harder than if he had hesitated. Then what was the bet about? He looked at the $20 bill still near her purse. I bet you'd come alone because you always do everything alone now. Laura said nothing.
Frank continued. You fix the sink yourself. You drove yourself to urgent care with a fever. You refuse rides. You refuse help.
You visit me at times when you know nobody else will be here. I'm capable. I didn't say you weren't. Then stop treating me like I need supervision. I'm not.
It sounds remarkably similar. Daniel looked down at the wooden box. He did not interfere. Frank lowered his voice. Your marriage ended.
That was terrible. But Peter leaving didn't mean everyone else was waiting for their turn. Laura's fingers closed around the old half-dollar in her pocket. 24 years of marriage had ended 3 years earlier. Since then, she had become very good at making sure no one could accuse her of needing anything.
Frank watched her. I don't care whether you bring a boyfriend through that door. Good. I care that you've started treating needing another person like losing an argument. Laura's expression sharpened.
You could have said that. You could have answered the phone. Daniel looked away to hide a smile. Laura caught him. Do not encourage him.
I'm doing nothing. That seems to be popular tonight. Daniel closed the box. I should go. For some reason, Laura disliked how quickly he said it.
She hid that by reaching for the plates again. Frank looked outside. The road near the creek floods first. I'll manage, Daniel said. Frank studied him.