“She didn’t ask me to.”
“She doesn’t have to.”
“You do it automatically.”
Marcus stared.
Vanessa’s voice cracked.
“I married a man whose first marriage never really ended.”
“She died.”
“I know!”
“Then stop competing with her!”
Silence.
Vanessa’s face crumpled.
“I never wanted to.”
“You did.”
“I wanted one thing that was mine.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Our family.”
“You had it.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Aisha was always there.”
“In the photographs.”
“In Tiana’s face.”
“In your traditions.”
“In the way your mother tells stories.”
“In the house.”
“Every time I tried to change something, somebody said Aisha chose it.”
“Every time I tried to start a tradition, you had an old one.”
“I felt like the second woman in my own marriage.”
Marcus’s anger softened slightly.
Not forgiveness.
Understanding.
“That sounds painful.”
Vanessa cried.
“It was.”
“But Tiana didn’t cause it.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“I don’t know.”
That was the first honest answer she gave all evening.
Marcus sat again.
For several minutes neither spoke.
Then footsteps came from the stairs.
Jordan.
He stood at the bottom step.
“Mom?”
Vanessa wiped her face.
“What are you doing up?”
He looked toward Marcus.
“Are we leaving?”
The question broke something.
Vanessa immediately moved toward him.
“No.”
Marcus stood too.
Jordan’s eyes were wet.
“Maya said you might get divorced.”
“Nobody said that,” Marcus replied.
“She heard yelling.”
Marcus crouched.
“Come here.”
Jordan hesitated.
Then approached.
Marcus hugged him.
Vanessa watched.
Jordan whispered:
“Are you still my dad?”
Marcus closed his eyes.
Vanessa covered her mouth.
Marcus held the boy tighter.
“Listen to me.”
“I love you.”
“No piece of paper changes that.”
Jordan cried.
“What if Mom leaves?”
“Then I still love you.”
“What if we don’t live here?”
“I still love you.”
“Forever?”
“Forever.”
Jordan looked toward his mother.
“Did you really say Tiana isn’t family?”
Vanessa’s face collapsed.
“Jordan—”
“Did you?”
She knelt.
“I said something wrong.”
“Why?”