“One ended up under the driver’s seat for almost a year.
“You’d probably say that means I inherited your ability to avoid maintenance.”
Hank laughed through his nose.
Ray looked over from the counter.
Hank continued.
“I’m not writing to decide which one of us was more wrong.
“I tried doing that for years.
“I always won when I told the story to myself.
“I suspect you did too.”
Emma smiled sadly.
“That sounds like him.”
Hank nodded.
He kept reading.
“You hurt me.
“I need to say that plainly because pretending otherwise would make the rest dishonest.
“You made me feel like the thing I loved most about myself was childish.
“I spent years proving you wrong.
“The ridiculous part is that once I had, I still wanted to call you.”
Hank stopped.
His hand shook.
Eli reached across the table and placed two fingers on the paper.
Not touching Hank.
Just there.
Hank swallowed.
“I became a teacher.
“I married a woman who is smarter than both of us and will deny that sentence because she is also irritatingly modest.”
Emma covered her face.
Eli grinned.
“I have a son named Eli.”
The boy straightened.
Hank’s voice nearly disappeared.
“He draws his wheels too big.”
Eli looked at his mother.
“You told him?”
Emma shook her head.
“No, sweetheart. Dad wrote that.”
Hank continued.
“He asks questions nobody should be expected to answer before coffee.
“He hates peas.
“He laughs exactly the way I did when I was little, which I know because I found an old cassette you made when I was nine.”
Hank remembered it.
Daniel laughing because Hank had fallen into a kiddie pool while trying to repair a fence.
He continued.
“I want you to know him.
“That sentence is the reason I kept rewriting this.”
Hank stopped.
Emma wiped both eyes.
Eli no longer touched his sandwich.
“I kept imagining the conversation where you and I fix everything first.
“Then I realized that was another excuse.
“Maybe some things aren’t fixed before the next good thing starts.
“Maybe the next good thing is how the fixing starts.”
Hank lowered the page.
Nobody spoke.
He turned to the second.
“I showed Eli a picture of your motorcycle.
“Yes, I still have it.
“Yes, I know about the dent.
“No, you were not right that dents add character. It still looks stupid.”
Hank laughed.
Eli smiled.
“I told him someday, when he was old enough, we might ride together.
“I didn’t tell him the bike belonged to you.
“I think part of me wanted to bring him there myself.
“I wanted to pull into the parking lot, point at you, and say, ‘See that impossible old man? That’s your grandfather.’
“Then I wanted to watch you pretend you weren’t crying.”
Hank was no longer pretending.
Tears moved openly through his beard.
He did not wipe them.
“I’m sorry I waited.
“I’m sorry you waited too.
“I’m sorry we became men who could repair engines, roofs, pipes, cabinets, fences, and almost anything else people handed us, but couldn’t figure out how to repair one conversation.”
Hank’s voice broke.
Emma reached across the table and took the page.
“I can finish.”
He shook his head.
“I need to.”
She released it.
He continued.
“If I get there before you read this, I’ll probably deny writing half of it.
“If I don’t, don’t turn grief into another eight years.
“That would be exactly the kind of stupid thing we would do.”
Ray turned away from the counter.
Luis stared at his coffee.
Hank reached the final paragraph.
“There’s one thing I need from you.
“If Eli ever finds his way to you, do not make him come back twice.
“Daniel.”
Hank lowered the letter.
Nobody moved.
Eli finally asked, “What does that mean?”
Hank folded the pages carefully.
“It means your dad knew me very well.”
“No. The last part.”
Hank looked at him.
“Don’t make me come back twice.”
“Yes.”
Hank took a slow breath.
“It means if you want me in your life…”
His voice caught.
“…I’m supposed to open the door the first time.”
Eli thought about that.
“What if I don’t know yet?”
Hank smiled through tears.
“Then I wait.”
“You’re good at waiting.”