“That is not helpful.”
“Why?”
“Because I care.”
I smiled.
“Fair.”
Then she looked at me.
“You always say that now.”
“What?”
“Fair.”
“Maybe.”
“Therapy?”
“Absolutely.”
She laughed.
At fourteen she asked to see the videos.
The ones from Zoe’s tablet.
I had stored copies with attorney materials.
I said:
“Why?”
“I want to know.”
“That might hurt.”
“I know.”
“Talk to therapist first.”
She groaned.
“Dad.”
“I’m serious.”
She did.
Therapist supported it if Nia chose and we watched together.
So one Saturday, we did.
The first clip.
Dishes.
Second.
Laundry.
Third.
The table.
I watched my daughter watch herself.
At the clip where Renee said:
“You don't want Marcus choosing between peace and problems.”
Nia paused.
Her face stayed calm.
“That one.”
“What?”
“That was when I started believing her.”
I swallowed.
“She was wrong.”
“I know now.”
She looked at me.
“Would you have chosen me?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She shook head.
“I mean if I had told then.”
I felt the weight of question.
“I hope so.”
She stared.
I continued:
“I want to say yes immediately.”
“But honest answer is I don't know how fast I would have understood.”
“I trusted my wife.”
“I might have asked questions badly.”
“I might have wanted proof.”
“I hate admitting that.”
“But I don't want to lie to make you feel better.”
Nia looked at me for a long time.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”