Marcus nodded slowly. Left without another word. Daniel kept working, but his jaw was tight for the rest of the morning. He didn't tell Victoria. Not that day.
He had her number in his phone now. Had had it for 3 weeks since the night in the rain, and they had exchanged texts with the careful frequency of two people who were both try not to appear to be counting the hours between messages. She texted him about things that weren't works. Funny. She'd overheard on an elevator.
An article about marine biology she'd sent because she remembered what he'd said about Amara wanting to study it. A question about what kind of food his daughter would eat that arrived on a Sunday afternoon and made Daniel stare at his phone for a full minute before answering because nobody had asked him that kind of question in a very long time. He told her about the mac and cheese with the breadcrumb top, about how Amara would eat almost anything if it was presented as her choice rather than his suggestion. About how she had recently declared she was done with strawberries for reasons she refused to explain and how he had simply accepted this because some battles are not worth fighting. Victoria texted back, "She sounds like someone who knows her mind."
Daniel replied, "Terrifyingly so." She replied, "Good. The world needs more of that. He looked at that text for a long time. Then he put his phone down and went to check on Amara's homework and did not allow himself to spiral.
He was doing well at not spiraling until Wednesday. When Amara came home from school quiet, not her normal quiet, the thinking quiet, the processing quiet, that meant she was working something out internally and would report her findings when ready. This was a different quiet. The kind with its head down. The kind that went directly to her room without stopping for a snack, which she never did, not once in 9 years.
Daniel gave her 20 minutes. Then he knocked on her door. Come in. She was on her bed, Gerald in her lap, textbook open in front of her, but not being read. He sat on the edge of the bed.
She didn't look up. Sunny, nothing. Amara Renee Brooks. She looked up. Her eyes were dry, but the kind of dry that follows effort.
"What happened?" He said. She was quiet for a moment. Then Kayla said her mom said, "You're dating your boss because you want to get promoted." The words hit him with the specific impact of a thing that is both absurd and also exactly the cruelest version of what the rumor had become.
Daniel kept his face very still. "Who is Kayla's mom?" He said. "She works at the restaurant." In the front, the one with the red hair, Sandra.
Front of house. Daniel knew her pleasant enough, efficient, the kind of person who kept the dining room running and had apparently also been keeping track of the kitchen supervisor's personal life. And Kayla told you this at school today. Amara nodded. She said it at lunch in front of everyone.
Daniel looked at his daughter at the careful held expression of a 9-year-old trying to decide whether to be angry or hurt and landing somewhere uncomfortable between the two. "Do you believe that?" He said. She looked at him. "No."