Chapter 5: The Call He Answered
Dad didn't hesitate.
He accepted the call and put it on speaker.
Set the phone flat on the kitchen table between us.
"Richard." The voice was male.
Confident.
The kind of voice that expected to be listened to.
"I think we need to talk."
"I agree," Dad said.
"Go ahead."
A pause.
Like the man on the other end hadn't expected that.
"Look, whatever Melissa told you —"
"Melissa hasn't told me much of anything.
That's actually been the problem."
Another pause.
Shorter this time.
"I want you to know that nothing inappropriate happened."
"Nothing inappropriate," Dad repeated.
He looked at me.
Then at Grandma.
"That's an interesting way to start a conversation."
"We're friends.
Old friends.
From before she met you."
"How old?"
Silence.
"Michael," Dad said.
"I have a bank statement in front of me.
I have eight months of withdrawals.
I have a receipt from a restaurant I've never been to.
And I have your name on my wife's phone lighting up the moment I confronted her about all of it." He paused.
"So I'll ask you again.
How old?"
The line was quiet for a long time.
Then Michael said, "She told me things were over between you two.
That you were separated."
Dad closed his eyes.
Opened them.
"We were not separated."
"I understand that now."
"Do you."
"Richard, I'm not your enemy here.
She lied to me too."
Grandma reached over and put her hand on Dad's arm.
He looked at her.
She gave a small, slow nod — not telling him what to do.
Just steadying him.
"Where is she now?" Dad asked.
"I don't know.
She called me about twenty minutes ago.
Said things had gone sideways and she needed to think.
I told her I couldn't keep doing this." A beat.
"That's why I'm calling you.
I thought you deserved to know."
"That's generous of you."
"I'm not trying to be generous.
I'm trying to —" Michael stopped.
"Look.
There's something else.
Something she told me that I think you need to hear."
Dad's hand tightened around the phone.
"She mentioned an account," Michael said.
"One you don't know about.
She said it was her exit plan."
The kitchen went cold.
"She called it that," Michael continued.
"Her exit plan.
She said she'd been building it for over a year.
Said when the time was right, she'd be gone before you knew what happened."
Dad didn't move.
I looked at Grandma.
Her face was unreadable.
"How much?" Dad said.
Michael told him.
Dad picked up the phone.
Took it off speaker.
Stood up and walked to the window with it pressed to his ear.
I couldn't hear the rest.
But I watched his back — the way his shoulders dropped, then squared again.
The way his free hand pressed flat against the glass.
He stood there for a long time.
When he turned around, his face was calm.
Completely calm.
The kind of calm that isn't peace.
"I need to make another call," he said.
May you like
He looked at me.
"Don't go anywhere."
