Chapter 19 - BRANDON CAME TO DINNER
One year after the seafood night, Brandon came to dinner.
Not as my husband.
The divorce had been final for three months.
Not as Gertrude’s representative.
Not as the man who controlled the room.
As Skylar’s father.
He arrived carrying takeout.
Skylar opened the bags.
She stared.
“Crab?”
Brandon looked embarrassed.
“I thought it might be funny.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“It’s weird.”
He laughed.
“Fair.”
There was also chicken.
Mashed potatoes.
Sweet iced tea.
The exact meal Skylar had ordered at the café the night we left.
She noticed.
So did I.
Brandon looked at me.
“I remembered.”
I nodded.
Dinner was awkward at first.
Then Skylar started talking about school.
Brandon listened.
Actually listened.
No phone.
No interruptions.
No Gertrude answering for him.
After dinner, Skylar went upstairs.
Brandon helped me clear the table.
“I started therapy.”
“I know.”
“Mom told you?”
“No.”
“Skylar did.”
He smiled faintly.
“That makes sense.”
We stood in the kitchen.
The same kitchen where I had found Skylar with instant soup.
The memory felt close and distant at the same time.
Brandon looked toward the stool.
“I still think about that night.”
“So do I.”
“I heard her tell the counselor she thought she deserved the soup.”
My throat tightened.
“I know.”
He looked ashamed.
“I was right there.”
“Yes.”
“I heard Mom say things before.”
I looked at him.
“I didn’t think it was serious.”
“It was easier not to.”
He nodded.
“That’s true.”
For once, he did not defend himself.
He put one plate into the dishwasher.
Then another.
“I used to think you froze the cards to punish us.”
“I know.”
“Now I think you saved me.”
I stared at him.
“No.”
He looked surprised.
“I didn’t save you.”
My voice was calm.
“You got consequences.”
I closed the dishwasher.
“What you did with them afterward was your choice.”
He absorbed that.
Then nodded.
“You’re right.”
When he left, Skylar came downstairs.
“Was that weird?”
I smiled.
“A little.”
“Are you getting back together?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I laughed.
She looked serious.
“I like Dad better now.”
“So do I.”
“But I don’t want him living here.”
“Neither do I.”
She smiled.
May you like
“Okay.”
That was enough.
