Chapter 6: What Derek Wanted
I drove to my brother Ray's house because it was the only place I could think of where I could say the words out loud without them going any further.
Ray opened the door, took one look at me, and stepped back to let me in without asking any questions.
He poured two cups of coffee and set them on the kitchen table and sat down across from me.
"Talk," he said.
I talked.
He listened without interrupting, which was not something Ray did naturally.
When I finished, he wrapped both hands around his cup and stared at it for a moment.
"Sixteen years," he said.
"Sixteen years."
"And this Derek — he reached out six months ago?"
"According to Pamela."
"And she confirmed it to him last week."
"Yes."
Ray set the cup down.
"Anthony.
Has she been in contact with him this whole time, or just recently?"
I looked at him.
"I don't know."
"Because *does he know yet* sounds like an ongoing conversation.
Not a one-time message."
I hadn't let myself follow that thought all the way to the end.
Ray had just followed it for me.
"I need to see that phone," I said.
"Yeah," Ray said.
"You do."
I drove back home.
Pamela's car was still in the driveway.
I walked in and found her in the kitchen, and she looked at me with something that might have been relief.
"I'm glad you came back," she said.
"I want to finish talking."
"I want to see your phone."
Her expression shifted.
"Anthony, I already told you—"
"You told me Derek reached out six months ago.
Ray pointed out that *does he know yet* sounds like a conversation that's been going on for a while." I held out my hand.
"Show me the thread."
She didn't move.
"There are private things in there."
"Private things about my son."
"Private things about my life."
"Pamela." I kept my hand out.
"If there is nothing in that phone that changes what you've already told me, then showing me costs you nothing."
She looked at my hand for a long moment.
Then she unlocked the phone and held it out.
I took it.
The thread with Derek went back fourteen months.
Not six.
I scrolled slowly.
Most of it was careful — vague, cautious, the kind of language people use when they're aware they're creating a record.
But the shape of it was clear.
He had found her.
She had not shut it down.
They had been talking, slowly and steadily, for over a year.
And then, eight months in, a single message from Pamela:
*He looks just like you.
I'll send a photo.*
I set the phone on the counter face-up so she could see which message I had stopped on.
She looked at it.
She looked at me.
"I was going to tell you," she said.
"When?"
She didn't answer.
"When Derek showed up at Marcus's school?" I asked.
"When Marcus started asking questions you didn't know how to answer?
When?"
"It wasn't like that."
"You sent him a photo of my son."
"Of his son—"
"Don't." The word came out sharp enough that she stopped.
"Right now, in this house, Marcus is my son.
That is the only thing that is true until we decide together — together, Pamela — how to handle this.
And you don't get to make that decision by yourself while I'm standing here in the dark."
She sat down at the kitchen table and put her face in her hands.
"I didn't know how to tell you."
"You had fourteen months to figure it out."
"I was scared."
"Of what?"
She looked up.
Her eyes were wet.
"Of exactly this," she said.
"Of you looking at me the way you're looking at me right now."
I picked up my keys again.
"I'm going to pick up Marcus from school," I said.
"And tonight, after he's in bed, we are going to sit down and decide what happens next.
Not what Derek wants.
Not what's easiest for you.
What is right for Marcus."
I was almost to the door when her voice came from behind me.
"Derek wants to meet him, Anthony.
He's been patient, but he said last week that he's done waiting.
He said if I don't arrange something soon, he's going to reach out to Marcus directly."
I turned around slowly.
"He said what?"
Her hands dropped to the table.
"He has Marcus's school.
He found it online.
He said he just wants one conversation."
The room felt very quiet.
"He found Marcus's school," I said.
She nodded.
"And you're only telling me this now."
May you like
She didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
