Chapter 9: Telling Emma
Emma's university was three hours north, set on a hill above a small town that still had a proper main street with a hardware store and a bakery and a post office that closed at noon on Fridays.
I drove up on Saturday morning.
Ryan offered to come.
I told him this one I needed to do alone.
She was waiting outside her dormitory when I pulled in.
She was wearing a blue coat I hadn't seen before and her hair was longer than the last time.
She looked like me at that age, which had always made Carl proud in a way that now felt complicated.
She got in the car and I drove us to the bakery on the main street and we ordered coffee and sat by the window.
"You drove three hours," she said.
"On a Saturday.
Without calling first."
"I called," I said.
"Last night."
"You said you were coming for a visit.
You sounded like someone trying to sound normal." She wrapped both hands around her cup.
"What happened?"
I told her.
All of it.
The party, the photograph, the deed, the recording, the settlement meeting, the text in the night.
I didn't soften it and I didn't rush it.
I had promised myself I would tell her the truth and let her feel whatever she needed to feel.
She listened without interrupting.
Her coffee went cold.
She didn't touch it.
When I finished, she was quiet for a long time.
"The house," she said finally.
"He tried to sell our house."
"Yes."
"While you were still living in it."
"Yes."
She looked out the window at the main street.
A man was walking a dog.
A woman was unlocking the hardware store.
"I spoke to him on Wednesday," Emma said.
"He called me.
He said you were going through a difficult time and that he was worried about you.
He asked me not to call you for a few days and give you space." She turned back to me.
Her eyes were dry but her jaw was tight.
"He was managing me.
While all of this was happening.
He was managing what I knew."
"Emma—"
"Don't tell me it's complicated," she said.
"I know it's complicated.
I know he's my father and I know this is going to take a long time to understand." She pushed her cup aside.
"But right now I'm just angry.
Is that all right?"
"Yes," I said.
"That's exactly right."
She reached across the table and took my hand.
Her grip was strong.
"Are you going to be okay?" she said.
"I already am," I said.
"More than I expected."
She studied my face for a moment, checking whether it was true.
"You look different," she said.
"Different how?"
"Less tired," she said.
"Which is strange, given everything."
I thought about that.
"I think I've been tired for a long time," I said.
"And I didn't know it was him that was tiring me."
Emma was quiet.
Then: "I'm not going to call him.
Not yet.
I need time."
"That's yours to decide."
"Will you tell me before anything big happens?
Legally, I mean.
Before any court dates or decisions."
"I promise."
She nodded.
She looked back out the window.
The dog-walker had stopped to let his dog sniff a lamppost.
The hardware store was open now, its door propped with a brick.
"Stay for lunch," Emma said.
"There's a place on the next block.
They do soup."
"I'd like that," I said.
We sat in that bakery for another half hour, not talking much, just being in the same room.
At one point she rested her head briefly on my shoulder, the way she used to when she was small, and then straightened up and picked up her cold coffee and made a face at the temperature.
"Awful," she said.
"Terrible," I agreed.
She waved the server over and ordered two fresh cups.
May you like
It was the first moment in a week that felt entirely ordinary.
I held onto it.
