Chapter 7 - THE TABLE
Reid arrived first. He saw the papers on the dining table and stopped.
“You printed everything,” he said.
“Yes.”
We had eaten birthday cake at that table two weeks before. Reid had helped Miles count the candles while Mae tried to blow them out from the far side. I moved the children's unfinished turtle out of reach and put a glass of water at every place.
My parents came next. Then Helen and Dennis. Beth arrived last, carrying no photographs or folders. Her mother had Sophie for the evening; Evelyn had Miles and Mae. For once, every adult in the room could speak without a child having to hear the answers.
I began with the practical reason they were there. We would need help with pickups while Reid and I worked out separate schedules. I wanted each grandparent to hear the same information about what had happened and what we did not yet know.
“You could have asked me privately,” Reid said.
“I did. You told different people different things after that.”
He looked at Beth. “You don't have to stay for this.”
“I know,” she said.
I placed the photograph from my phone on the table. Reid was clear enough to recognize across the tank. Beside it I placed his text, sent seven minutes later, saying he was still at the client's building. No one spoke while Helen read it.
Reid said he had gone to the aquarium because Beth was a client he was trying to help. Beth lifted her head.
“I'm not a client of yours. We've been dating for seven months.”
Dennis removed his glasses. My mother reached for my father's hand under the table.
Reid said he'd meant to tell me. Then he said Beth had known the situation was complicated. Beth opened the message about Oregon on her phone and read it aloud: the marriage was over, the twins lived there with me, and he stayed behind for work.
“I asked you directly if Marin knew we were together,” Beth said. “You told me yes.”
“I said she knew the marriage was ending.”
“She didn't,” I said. “On Friday you and I made a grocery list and planned a day at the aquarium with our children.”
He started to call that an ordinary family obligation. I didn't need everyone at the table to debate the state of our marriage. The dated messages were enough to show he'd been giving us incompatible stories.
I moved to the next page: the $648 VIP booking made three weeks earlier, for Reid, Beth, and Sophie. Then the $104 charge for the tickets he had handed me and our twins on Saturday morning.
“You told Miles the tour was sold out,” I said.
“I thought it was when he asked.”
“You'd already bought three places.”
He glanced at the booking and gave no answer.
Helen asked whether I was sure Miles had seen his father. I told her exactly what he'd said at the glass. Then I asked Reid a question I'd avoided since Saturday.
“When you told Beth I might come by the photo counter, how did you know I'd seen you?”
His gaze went to the window. “I saw you across the tank.”
“Did you see Miles?”
He nodded once. “He was pointing.”
The room seemed to shrink. For three days I'd left space for the possibility that Reid hadn't noticed his son. I had no idea why I'd needed that space, but losing it hurt.
“I didn't know what to do,” Reid said. “Sophie was right there.”
Beth stared at him. “You made me pose for another photograph afterward.”
He tried to speak, but she shook her head. Sophie had been right there. So had Miles.
I turned over the bank record. It showed $4,800 leaving our roof savings for Blue Harbor Residential. The next page was Reid's budget entry calling the same payment a contractor advance. I put our actual roofer's estimate beside it, then the first page of the apartment application Beth had chosen to share.
“Reid,” Dennis said, “you told your mother and me Marin had moved the roof money.”
“It was going to come back,” Reid said. “The bonus—”
“That wasn't my question.”
Reid admitted he'd sent the payment. He called the apartment temporary, then said he hadn't decided whether he would live in it. Beth pushed her chair back a few inches.
“You asked me to choose a room for Sophie,” she said. “You told her she could paint it yellow.”
For the first time Reid looked ashamed of something other than being caught. It didn't erase the yellow room Sophie now expected or the repair our house still needed.
My father asked if the children had been told about the apartment. I said no. I explained that Ms. Patel was helping me propose a temporary schedule and account for the money. I wasn't asking anyone at the table to decide custody, repay the roof fund, or convince me to stay married.
Helen spoke quietly. “He told us Beth was a customer. He told her you and the twins lived in Oregon.”
She pressed a hand to her forehead. “I've picked them up here every week.”
Reid had counted on each person hearing only the version he'd prepared for them. Helen finally heard both.
Beth stood. “I'm withdrawing from the apartment application tomorrow. What happens with the payment is for you and Marin to sort out. You won't ask me to tell either family I knew the truth.”
Reid said her name, but she was already collecting her coat. I walked her to the door. Outside, she paused and asked me not to tell Sophie that she'd caused any of it.
“I won't,” I said.
When I returned, Reid was telling his parents that everything had happened too quickly for him to explain it properly. Dennis told him he could begin by repaying the money and talking to his children honestly. I left them to discuss where Reid would stay that night.
I picked up Miles and Mae from Evelyn's apartment at nine. They were sleepy, warm from their bath, and arguing softly about whether sea turtles dream. I got them home without mentioning the meeting.
May you like
After Mae fell asleep, Miles appeared at my bedroom door holding the folded aquarium map. His blue star had begun to tear along one edge.
“Dad said he had to work,” he whispered. “Did he go over there because he didn't want to be with us?”
