Inside his home, his family had shifted.
“Do you hate her?”
Camille looked shocked.
“No.”
“Do you resent her?”
Silence.
“That’s not the same question.”
Camille cried harder.
“Sometimes.”
Marcus turned.
“At nine?”
“I don’t resent Maya for being Maya.”
“I resent what happens around her.”
“That is too convenient.”
“I know.”
He stared.
Camille stopped herself.
“Sorry.”
Marcus sat again.
“What happens now?”
“I don’t know.”
“You need to know one thing.”
She looked.
“You never exclude my daughter from a family event and lie to me about it again.”
“I won’t.”
“If there is an again.”
Her face changed.
“Marcus.”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re talking divorce?”
“I’m talking about not making promises while angry.”
She looked toward stairs.
“What about the boys?”
“I love them.”
“They didn’t do this.”
“I know.”
“They already think people leave.”
“I know.”
The phrase came from him now.
He hated it.
Camille whispered:
“If I leave this house tonight with them, Jordan will think you’re done with him.”
Marcus rubbed his face.
That was likely true.
If she stayed, Maya might think her father tolerated what happened.
Every choice touched a child.
Adults like to believe family decisions can be separated from children.
They cannot.
Marcus said:
“You stay tonight.”
Camille looked surprised.
“In the guest room.”
“Okay.”
“The boys stay.”
“Okay.”
“Tomorrow, we talk separately with all three.”
“Yes.”
“And you call my sister.”
“I will.”
“You tell her exactly what you told her.”
“Yes.”
“Then you find a therapist.”
“I already have one.”
Marcus looked.
“What?”
“I started last month.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew something was wrong with me.”
He felt anger return.
“Something is wrong with us.”
“I know.”
She stopped.
Marcus nearly laughed.
“Say it.”
“What?”
“I know.”
A weak smile appeared through tears.
“I know.”
For the first time in an hour, both almost laughed.
It did not fix anything.
But it reminded them they were still human beings sitting in the same room.
That night, the house was silent in separate directions.
Maya slept in her room.
Jordan in his.
Eli asked to sleep on the floor in Jordan’s room.
Camille slept in the guest bedroom.
Marcus lay alone in the master.
At 1:14 a.m., there was a knock.
He sat.
“Maya?”
The door opened.
She stood in pajamas.
Marcus lifted blanket.
She climbed in without asking.
For five minutes she said nothing.
Then:
“Are you and Camille getting divorced?”
Marcus stared at ceiling.
“I don’t know.”
“Because of me?”
“No.”
“You fought because I wanted to go.”
“No.”
“If I said I didn’t care—”
“Maya.”
He turned.