He obviously was.
“Not at all,” he said.
“Could I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure. Of course.”
He was headed to give those bags to my mom, but we paused at a little outdoor seating spot along the way and set the bags on a table.
“I need to tell you something,” I said.
“Okay,” my dad said. “Shoot.”
“I know about you and Mom.”
My dad’s eyes widened. He looked—caught. “You know—?”
“About all of it,” I said. And then, in a move that felt like revealing a state secret, I said, “I heard you. Through the vent on the stairs.”
“You heard…?” He waited for me to clarify, like he was hoping we had different definitions ofall of it.
“I heard everything.” Then I leaned in to whisper, “About Mom wanting a divorce.”
My dad frowned, like he wasn’t sure how to feel about me knowing. Then he glanced around and said, “Please don’t tell your sister.”
“Of course I won’t,” I said. “I wasn’t even going to tellyou.”
“Whyareyou telling me?”
“I heard you say you were going to try to change Mom’s mind.”
My dad nodded.
“How’s that going?”
My dad shook his head.
“Because I decided something last night, and you need to know about it.”
My dad nodded, likeTell me.
“I decided to help you.”
“Help me?”
“Help you change Mom’s mind.”
At that, he lifted his hand to rub his eyes. “Sweetie, I’m not sure youcanhelp me. I’m not even sure I can help myself.”
“It’s not too late,” I said.
My dad looked away, like he was studying something in the ocean. Then he said, “I think it might be.”
“I love that you’re trying,” I said. “I can tell that you are.”
“I am,” he said.
“You’re doing all the right things,” I said.
