Chapter 6: What Frank Knew
I called him back from the back porch, away from the house.
Frank picked up on the second ring.
"Nora," he said.
"Thank you for calling."
"Of course," I said.
"Is everything alright?"
"That depends on what you mean by alright." He paused.
"I owe you an apology."
I didn't say anything.
I hadn't expected that.
"Not just for last night," he said.
"For a long time before last night."
"Frank — "
"Let me finish." His voice was steady.
Careful.
The voice of a man who had thought about what he wanted to say.
"I've watched what happens at these dinners.
I'm not blind.
I've watched my children order whatever they liked and then look the other way when the check came.
And I watched you pay.
Every time."
I sat down on the porch step.
"I told myself it wasn't my place to say anything," he said.
"That it was between you and Chris.
That you were both adults." He stopped.
"That was a coward's excuse.
I'm sorry for it."
"You paid your own bill last night," I said.
"Without saying a word."
"It was the least I could do.
It was also about forty years too late as a habit." He made a short sound that might have been a laugh.
"Donna called me this morning.
She's very worked up."
"I know."
"She wants me to talk to you.
To ask you to apologize to the family."
I felt something tighten in my chest.
"And are you?"
"No," he said simply.
"I'm calling to tell you that you don't owe anyone an apology.
And to ask you — if you're willing — to tell me how long this has been going on.
The real answer.
Not the polite one."
So I told him.
I told him about the first dinner, six months after the wedding, when I had assumed it was a one-time thing.
I told him about the Easter dinner two years in, when the bill had been over nine hundred dollars and Chris had squeezed my hand under the table and whispered *I'll make it up to you* and never mentioned it again.
I told him about Donna's joke — the walking credit card — and how the whole table had laughed, including Chris.
Frank listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he was quiet for a moment.
"Does Chris know all of this?" he asked.
"The full picture?"
"I've tried to tell him," I said.
"He hears it as complaining."
"Then he hasn't been listening," Frank said.
"That's on him.
And it's on me for raising a son who learned to look the other way."
I didn't know what to say to that.
"I'm going to speak to Donna," he said.
"And to Paul.
And to Chris.
Not to make peace for the sake of peace.
But because what's been happening isn't right, and someone in this family should have said so a long time ago."
"Frank," I said.
"You don't have to do that."
"I know I don't have to," he said.
"That's why I'm going to."
After we hung up, I stayed on the porch for a while.
The morning was cool.
Somewhere down the street, a lawn mower started up.
I thought about four years of dinners.
Four years of bills.
Four years of smiling while Donna made her joke and everyone laughed.
I thought about Frank's voice on the phone.
Steady.
Sorry.
Meaning it.
Then my phone buzzed again.
A text from Chris: *Donna just called me.
She says Dad spoke to her.
What did you say to him?*
I read it twice.
Then I typed back: *He called me.
Ask him what he said.*
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
May you like
Then appeared again.
Then nothing.
