He became Marcus.
Then sometimes Marc.
Then, during a basketball game, Eli once yelled, “Dad, look!”
Everyone froze.
Eli turned red.
Marcus continued watching the shot as if nothing happened.
Later he found Eli sitting alone in the garage.
“You mad?”
Marcus sat beside him.
“About what?”
“What I called you.”
“No.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“That’s okay.”
“What if Dad hears?”
That word meant Andre.
Marcus understood.
“You have a dad.”
Eli looked down.
“You can also have me.”
The boy cried.
Marcus nearly did too.
But blended families contain invisible ledgers.
Who receives what.
Who lost more.
Who was loved first.
Which child is being corrected.
Which child is being protected.
Whose photograph sits where.
Whose parent is mentioned.
Whose parent is avoided.
Marcus believed he and Camille were doing better than most.
He was wrong.
He saw the first evidence on the afternoon before the vacation.
He opened the front door carrying his laptop bag and the mango smoothies he had bought for the children.
The television was on.
Jordan and Eli sat on the sectional sofa wearing headphones around their necks.
Travel backpacks rested at their feet.
Jordan held a white envelope.
Eli held another.
A large black suitcase lay open on the rug.
Camille knelt beside it wearing a burgundy blouse and beige trousers.
She was removing a folded coral dress.
Maya’s dress.
Marcus recognized it because Maya had spent twenty minutes deciding whether coral was “too grown-up.”
Standing behind the suitcase was Maya.
Light-blue cardigan.
White shirt.
Jeans.
Small backpack still over both shoulders.
Her eyes were wet.
Marcus stopped.
No one saw him immediately.
Camille placed the coral dress on the floor.
Then a pair of Maya’s shorts.
Then her swimsuit.
Maya whispered:
“But Dad said.”
Camille continued folding.
“I already explained it.”
“He promised.”
“Maya.”
“All of us.”
Jordan removed one headphone.
His expression was uncomfortable.
Eli looked at his mother.
Maya’s voice broke.
“He promised we were all going together.”
Camille closed the suitcase.
“Plans changed.”
Maya wiped one cheek.
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Dad didn’t tell me.”
“He’s busy.”
“He would tell me.”
Camille stood.
“Maya, I am not arguing about this again.”
“Where am I staying?”
“With Aunt Tasha.”
Marcus’s body went cold.
His sister.
Tasha had said nothing.
Maya looked toward Jordan and Eli.
“They still go?”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
“Yes.”
“And Dad tomorrow?”
Camille hesitated.
“Yes.”
Maya absorbed it.
“So family vacation is everybody except me.”
Jordan said quietly:
“Mom.”
Camille looked at him.
“Stay out of it.”
Jordan’s mouth closed.
Maya looked down.
“Did I do something?”
That question moved Marcus.
He set the smoothies silently on the entry table.
“What exactly would she have done?”
Every head turned.
Camille’s face drained.
“Marcus.”