“I should have.”
Eli considered this.
“What did Dad say?”
“A lot.”
“Like what?”
Ray cleared his throat and stood.
“Think I’m gonna get another coffee.”
Luis followed.
“I suddenly need one too.”
They walked away.
Hank almost thanked them.
“He said I didn’t respect him.”
“Did you?”
Hank looked at Daniel’s photograph.
“Not enough.”
Eli took another bite of grilled cheese.
“Then you should’ve said sorry.”
Emma inhaled quietly.
Hank almost smiled.
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I was angry.”
“That doesn’t stop you.”
“It did me.”
Eli shook his head as though Hank had just failed a simple math problem.
“Dad said sorry when he was angry.”
Hank’s eyes stung.
“He got smarter than me.”
Eli seemed satisfied with that explanation.
Then he pointed at the envelope.
“What’s that?”
Hank looked down.
“Your dad wrote me a letter.”
“You gonna read it?”
Hank touched the envelope again.
“Eventually.”
“Why not now?”
“Eli.”
Emma gave him a look.
“What?”
Hank smiled faintly.
“It’s okay.”
The truth was he was terrified of the letter.
The last words he had ever heard from Daniel in person had been shouted.
Daniel was twenty-nine.
Hank was fifty-two.
They stood in Hank’s garage.
Daniel had been offered an opportunity to finish his education while working part-time.
Hank told him the degree was impractical.
Daniel accused Hank of trying to design his entire life.
Hank called him irresponsible.
Daniel asked whether Hank had ever once looked at his work without deciding how much money it could make.
Hank answered badly.
He said art was a hobby.
Daniel said it was his life.
Hank said then maybe he needed a better life.
There were sentences a father could not retrieve once released.
That was one.
Daniel stopped speaking.
He took his jacket from a chair.
At the door he said, “You don’t have to worry about watching me fail.”
Hank said, “Fine.”
Daniel said, “Fine.”
The door closed.
Hank waited for the apology he believed Daniel owed him.
Daniel waited too.
Days became months.
Months became years.
Hank wrote messages and deleted them.
Daniel changed his number.
Hank asked old friends where he was.
Then pride disguised itself as respect for boundaries.
Eight years passed.
And now Daniel was dead.
Hank picked up the envelope.
“I’ll read it.”
Emma looked toward Eli.
“Maybe privately.”
“No.”
Hank surprised himself.
“If you’re comfortable, I’d rather…”
He looked at Eli.
“I’d rather not hide anything else.”
Emma nodded.
Hank slipped one finger beneath the flap.
Daniel had sealed it carefully.
Inside were four pages.
The first line destroyed him.
Dad,
If you’re reading this, either I finally stopped being stubborn or life found a less polite way to make the decision for me.
Hank stopped.
Eli watched him.
Emma looked down.
Hank continued silently for several lines before his vision blurred.
He wiped one eye.
“Can you read it out loud?”
Eli’s voice was quiet.
Hank hesitated.
Emma nodded.
Hank started again.
“Dad.
“If you’re reading this, either I finally stopped being stubborn or life found a less polite way to make the decision for me.
“I’ve written versions of this letter more times than I want to admit.
“Most ended in the trash.