Chapter 5 - May Fourteenth

Daniel did not ask to go somewhere private.

He stood in the diner parking lot with traffic moving behind him and told the story where Emily had demanded it.

“May fourteenth was six weeks after your mother left,” he said. “The temporary order was still active.”

Claire's face hardened.

“You make it sound administrative.”

Daniel looked at her.

“It wasn't.”

Emily held up a hand.

“Let him finish.”

Daniel nodded.

“I had not seen you in twelve days. Two supervised visits had been canceled. My lawyer said not to contact you directly.”

“So you went to my school.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I was angry and because I convinced myself that seeing you for five minutes would fix something.”

Claire let out a sharp breath.

“You told the secretary you were taking her to lunch.”

Daniel's eyes stayed on Emily.

“Yes.”

Emily felt cold.

“Were you?”

“I wanted to.”

“Did you have permission?”

“No.”

“Did you know there was an order?”

“Yes.”

The answer landed harder than any excuse could have.

Emily looked away.

Daniel continued.

“The front office called your mother because there was a custody alert in your file. I got angry. I said I was your father and they had no right to keep me from you. A school security officer asked me to leave. I refused.”

Claire spoke through clenched teeth.

“You shouted that nobody was taking your daughter from you.”

“Yes.”

“The police came.”

“Yes.”

“They walked you out in handcuffs.”

Daniel's jaw tightened.

“For twenty minutes. They cited me for violating the temporary order.”

Emily searched her memory.

A hallway.

A red fire extinguisher cabinet.

Her science teacher guiding her back into a classroom.

A man's voice somewhere beyond the office.

She had spent years remembering it as a threat without a face.

“Did I see you?”

Daniel's expression broke slightly.

“Once. Through the office window.”

Emily's stomach twisted.

“I remember.”

Claire stepped closer.

“You came home shaking. You asked me if he was going to take you away.”

Emily turned to her.

“Because someone told me that.”

Claire went quiet.

“Who?”

Claire's eyes moved toward the phone in Emily's hand.

Mark.

Emily understood before her mother answered.

“He was at the house that night?”

Claire nodded.

“He came over after you fell asleep.”

Daniel laughed without humor.

“Of course he did.”

Emily stared at Claire.

“You told me you weren't together.”

“We weren't.”

“He was at our house after Dad was arrested at my school.”

“I needed someone.”

“You had Aunt Rachel.”

“Rachel was his sister.”

“You had friends.”

“I trusted Mark.”

Daniel looked at the asphalt.

Emily wanted to scream at all of them.

Instead she asked Daniel, “Were you going to take me?”

“No.”

“Would you have taken me to lunch if the school let you?”

“Yes.”

“Without telling Mom?”

“Yes.”

“That is taking me.”

Daniel closed his eyes.

“Yes.”

Claire's voice shook.

“Thank you.”

Daniel looked at her.

“For what?”

“For finally saying it without turning it into a misunderstanding.”

He nodded once.

“I was wrong.”

Emily swallowed.

“Why didn't you tell me yesterday?”

“Because you asked why I stayed away for nine years, and May fourteenth explains why your mother was afraid, not why I stopped trying forever.”

“That sounds convenient.”

“It probably is.”

Emily stared at him.

“What happened after?”

Daniel rubbed his hands together.

“The judge extended the order for six months. I got supervised visitation. I went to anger management. I started therapy. I sold my apartment because I couldn't afford it. The company closed. For a while, I was not someone I would have trusted either.”

Claire looked at him sharply.

“You never said that.”

“I wasn't talking to you.”

“You were always defending yourself.”

“I spent years defending myself to people who had already decided what I was.”

Emily stepped between their voices.

“Enough.”

She looked at Daniel.

“Mark said you hoped I'd forgotten.”

“I hoped you remembered less fear than I did.”

“That isn't the same thing.”

“No.”

Daniel reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his car keys.

“I'll give you space.”

Emily's anger rose immediately.

“There you go again.”

He stopped.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I don't know.”

“Then tell me when you do.”

He started toward his car.

Emily watched him go, furious that his leaving now felt different than it had the day before.

Claire touched her elbow.

“Emily.”

She pulled away.

“Not yet.”

Claire dropped her hand.

“Okay.”

Rachel drove Emily back to her house.

For nearly twenty minutes, they said nothing.

Then Emily asked, “Did you know about the school?”

Rachel nodded.

“Yes.”

“Did you think Dad was dangerous?”

Rachel took time before answering.

“I thought he was angry enough to make dangerous decisions.”

“That's not the same as dangerous?”

“Sometimes it is.”

Emily looked at her aunt.

“Why did you keep helping him?”

“Because people can be responsible for frightening behavior without being permanently defined by their worst month.”

“Did Mom have reason to protect me?”

“Yes.”

“Did she have reason to lie to me for nine years?”

“No.”

Emily leaned her head against the window.

“I want one person to be simple.”

Rachel sighed.

“You chose the wrong family.”

At Rachel's house, the cardboard box waited in the guest room.

Emily sat on the floor and began sorting the letters by date.

Fourteenth birthday.

Returned.

Christmas.

Returned.

Fifteenth birthday.

No return stamp. The envelope had been slit open.

Emily frowned.

Inside was Daniel's letter.

Dear Em,

I don't know whether this reaches you. I hope school is better this year. Rachel says you quit soccer and then started again, which sounds like you. You never liked letting one bad day decide anything.

I am not going to ask you to write back. I only want you to know that I think about you every day.

I am sorry for frightening you. I am sorry I made my anger bigger than your sense of safety. I can't repair that by insisting you forgive me.

I love you.

Dad

Emily read it twice.

The envelope had no return stamp.

“Rachel?”

Her aunt appeared in the doorway.

“What?”

“This one was opened.”

Rachel came closer.

“I've never seen it.”

“It wasn't returned.”

“Then how did Daniel get it back?”

Emily stared at the box.

A chill moved down her arms.

They began checking every envelope.

Most had postal markings.

Two did not.

The letter from her fifteenth birthday and a Christmas card from the same year had both been opened and somehow ended up back with Daniel.

Emily called him.

He answered immediately.

“Are you okay?”

“How did you get the fifteenth birthday letter back?”

Silence.

“Which one?”

“The one that starts with school and soccer.”

Another pause.

“It was in an envelope Claire's lawyer sent me.”

Emily sat straighter.

“What?”

“About a month after your birthday.”

“Why?”

“Because they included something from you.”

Emily's mouth went dry.

“What something?”

Daniel did not answer.

“Dad.”

The word slipped out again.

His breathing changed.

“I have it.”

“Where?”

“At my apartment.”

“Bring it.”

“Emily—”

“Bring it.”

He arrived forty minutes later carrying a small manila envelope.

Claire came ten minutes after that because Rachel had called her.

Daniel looked unhappy when he saw her, but said nothing.

Emily stood at the dining table.

“Show me.”

Daniel removed a folded sheet of lined notebook paper.

Emily recognized her handwriting before she read the words.

Please stop coming around.

I hate when people ask me about you.

I don't want to see you.

You scare me and Mom.

Please just leave us alone.

Emily

Her vision blurred.

She sat down.

“I wrote this.”

Claire began crying immediately.

Daniel remained standing.

“I know.”

Emily read it again.

The memory came slowly.

A therapist's office with soft blue walls.

A box of tissues.

A woman named Dr. Patel asking Emily to write everything she wanted to say to her father without worrying about whether it was fair.

Then asking her to tear the page up if she wanted.

Emily had folded it instead.

She had placed it inside a yellow folder beside the therapist's desk.

She looked at Claire.

“This was from therapy.”

Claire covered her mouth.

Daniel frowned.

“What?”

Emily stood so fast the chair scraped the floor.

“I wrote this in therapy.”

Claire shook her head through tears.

“You meant it then.”

“That isn't the question.”

“You were terrified after the school incident.”

“That isn't the question.”

Emily held up the paper.

“Did I ask you to send this?”

Claire whispered, “No.”

Daniel turned toward her.

“You told me she gave it to you for me.”

Claire's face crumpled.

“I believed she needed you to stop.”

Daniel's voice went cold.

“You mailed me a private therapy exercise as if it were a letter from my daughter.”

“You had just been arrested at her school.”

“I know what I did.”

“You would not listen to anyone.”

“So you used her words.”

“I was trying to make you listen.”

“You made me believe my child had personally asked me to disappear.”

Emily slammed the paper onto the table.

“Stop making this about what it did to you.”

Daniel fell silent.

She turned to Claire.

“And stop telling me what I meant.”

Claire's shoulders shook.

“I am sorry.”

Emily's voice broke.

“You took something I wrote when I was thirteen and scared, in a room where I was supposed to be safe, and you turned it into a permanent decision.”

“I thought—”

“You thought for me.”

“Yes.”

“For nine years.”

Claire looked down.

“Yes.”

Emily paced toward the window.

“Did Dr. Patel know?”

“No.”

“Did Mark?”

Claire hesitated.

That hesitation was enough.

Emily turned.

“Did Mark know?”

“Yes.”

Daniel closed his eyes.

Emily stared at her mother.

“How?”

“I told him I had the note.”

“And?”

“He said if Daniel heard it from you, he might finally stop pushing.”

Rachel swore under her breath.

Emily felt something inside her become very still.

“So it was his idea.”

Claire looked panicked.

“No. I made the choice.”

“But he suggested it.”

“Yes.”

Daniel's voice was barely audible.

“Of course he did.”

Emily grabbed her phone.

Claire stepped toward her.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling him.”

“Emily, don't.”

“Why?”

“Because you're angry.”

“I have earned angry.”

Daniel spoke quietly.

“Don't meet him alone.”

Emily rounded on him.

“You do not get to start giving me rules.”

“I know.”

“Then don't.”

He nodded.

Emily dialed Mark.

He answered on the second ring.

“I was wondering when you'd call.”

Her hand tightened around the phone.

“Did you tell Mom to send Dad the note I wrote in therapy?”

Silence.

Then Mark said, “I told your mother that Daniel needed to understand how afraid you were.”

“That is not what I asked.”

“Yes,” he said. “I suggested she send it.”

Emily shut her eyes.

“Why?”

“Because your father would not respect boundaries.”

“And because he was asking questions about North Lake?”

The silence changed.

Claire heard it too.

Mark's voice became careful.

“Daniel has been feeding you his old obsession.”

“I have the March ninth fax.”

Another silence.

“I have the education-fund transfer with Dad's wrong middle initial.”

Mark exhaled.

“You don't understand those records.”

“Then explain them.”

“I will.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

Claire shook her head violently.

Emily ignored her.

“Where?”

“Your mother's house.”

Daniel stepped forward.

“No.”

Emily covered the phone.

“I said no rules.”

“This isn't a rule. It's a warning.”

Mark heard him.

“Of course Daniel is there.”

Emily uncovered the phone.

“Seven o'clock. Mom will be there. Aunt Rachel too.”

Daniel looked at her.

Emily held his gaze.

“And Dad.”

Mark was silent for several seconds.

Then he said, “Fine.”

The call ended.

Claire sat heavily.

“You don't know what he will do.”

Emily looked at her mother.

“No,” she said. “That's the problem. I don't know what any of you will do.”

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She picked up the therapy note and folded it along the old crease.

“But tonight, nobody gets to speak for me.”