Chapter 16
Two weeks later, Marcy went back to work.
Her bruises were fading.
Her laugh had returned slowly, like somebody turning up the volume one notch at a time.
She and Dustin were still together, though differently.
She no longer excused his sharpness.
He no longer treated disagreement as disrespect.
At least, he was trying not to.
One Sunday, the six of us—Marcy, Dustin, Linda, Eddie, Claire, and I—had dinner in our backyard.
Nothing dramatic happened.
That was what made it memorable.
Linda burned the garlic bread.
Eddie told stories about his first week in my training course.
Marcy threatened to show everyone my old photographs.
Dustin offered to wash dishes and broke one.
For the first time in months, I looked at my daughter and saw someone living her life rather than shrinking from it.
Then, while everyone else carried plates inside, Marcy stayed beside me.
“Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“There’s something I haven’t told you.”
My stomach tightened from habit.
She noticed.
“It isn’t bad.”
“You could lead with that.”
She smiled.
“I was offered a job.”
“Where?”
“Chicago.”
I stared at her.
“Chicago?”
“With Claire’s firm.”
“That’s a long way.”
“I know.”
“When?”
“Six weeks.”
I searched her expression.
“Does Dustin know?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He told me I should take it if I want it.”
That surprised me.
“What do you want?”
She looked toward the house, where her mother’s laughter drifted through the open kitchen window.
“I don’t know yet.”
I nodded.
“That’s allowed.”
She rested her head briefly against my shoulder.
A small gesture.
The same one she had made when she was ten.
“I was afraid you’d ask me to stay.”
“I want you close.”
She waited.
“But that isn’t the same thing as wanting you small.”
Her eyes filled.
“So you think I should go?”
I shook my head.
“I think you should decide.”
She smiled.
Then she reached into her pocket.
“There’s one other thing.”
She handed me a folded photocopy.
May you like
I recognized it as part of the recovered access log.
Near the bottom was an entry made almost four months earlier.
