Chapter 7: The Conversation Marcus Deserved
I sat in the school pickup line for twenty minutes with the engine running and my hands on the wheel.
I had spent the drive over deciding what I would say to Marcus.
I had rebuilt it three times.
Every version fell apart somewhere in the middle, because there was no clean way to carry this.
There was only the truth, and the truth was jagged and it was going to cut him no matter how carefully I handed it over.
He came out through the main doors with two friends, laughing at something.
The laugh faded when he spotted my face through the windshield.
He got in and pulled the door shut.
"What happened?"
"I'll tell you at home."
"Dad."
"At home, Marcus."
He turned and looked out the passenger window and didn't say another word for the whole drive.
Pamela was not in the living room when we got back.
I heard movement upstairs.
I didn't go up.
I sat Marcus down at the kitchen table.
He looked at me with his jaw set the way it had been set the night before, braced for something he could already feel coming.
"I need to tell you something," I said.
"And I need you to let me get through it before you say anything.
Can you do that?"
"Okay."
"Your mother told me something this morning.
Something she should have told me a long time ago." I kept my eyes on his.
"When she was young, before she and I met, she was with someone.
A man named Derek.
She didn't know she was pregnant when they separated.
She met me a few months later."
Marcus was very still.
"She made a choice not to tell me.
I don't agree with that choice.
But I want you to hear the next part clearly." I leaned forward.
"I have been your father since you were four years old.
I chose that.
Every single day, I chose it.
Nothing that happened before I met you changes that.
Nothing."
He looked at the table.
"So he's my — Derek is my—"
"Biologically, yes."
"Does he know about me?"
"He found out recently.
He reached out to your mother."
Marcus looked up sharply.
"How recently?"
I held his gaze.
"About fourteen months ago."
He went very quiet.
"She's known for fourteen months."
"Yes."
"And she didn't tell you either."
"No."
He pushed back from the table and stood up.
Walked to the window.
Stood there with his back to me, shoulders tight.
"Is that why she's been—" He stopped.
"Been what?"
"She's been weird for months.
Like, more than usual.
Jumpy.
Checking her phone all the time." He turned around.
"I thought she was just stressed about work."
"I think she was carrying something she didn't know how to put down."
"That's not an excuse."
"No," I said.
"It isn't."
He came back to the table but didn't sit.
He put both hands on the back of the chair.
"Does he want to meet me?"
"He's asked about it."
"Do I have to?"
"No.
Not until you're ready.
Not until you want to.
And not without me there."
He looked at me for a long moment.
"Are you and Mom—" He stopped again.
Started over.
"Are you getting divorced?"
"I don't know yet.
That's an honest answer.
Your mother and I have a lot to figure out."
"But you're not leaving."
"I'm not going anywhere tonight."
He nodded slowly.
He pulled the chair out and sat back down, and we stayed at that table for a long time without talking, and that was all right.
Some things don't need to be filled with words.
Pamela appeared in the doorway at some point.
She looked at Marcus.
He looked at her.
"I'm sorry," she said.
Her voice was small.
"I'm so sorry, Marcus."
He didn't say anything for a moment.
Then: "Were you ever going to tell us?"
She pressed her hand to her mouth.
"I was scared," she said.
"I know," he said.
"But that's not really an answer."
He got up and went to his room.
Not angry.
Not slamming doors.
Just done with the conversation for now.
Pamela stood in the doorway and looked at me.
"What do we do about Derek?" she asked.
"Tonight," I said, "nothing.
Tonight we let Marcus breathe."
"And tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow I'm going to call a lawyer."
Her face shifted.
"Anthony—"
"Not for a divorce.
Not yet." I looked at her steadily.
"Because a man who found my son's school and told you he'd contact him directly if you didn't arrange a meeting is not someone I'm going to handle with a phone call and good intentions."
She sat down at the table where Marcus had just been sitting.
"I didn't think he would actually do it," she said quietly.
"That's the problem, Pamela.
May you like
You've been making decisions about what people will and won't actually do for sixteen years." I stood up.
"And every single time, you've been wrong."
