Chapter 3 - THE FATHER WHO PAID FOR EVERYTHING EXCEPT HIS TIME
Eleanor challenged my father for the first time over Jamie's school play.
Dad promised to attend.
That meant almost nothing.
He had promised soccer games.
Birthdays.
Dinner.
Promises were free.
At six fifteen, Jamie stood backstage wearing a cardboard moon costume while Eleanor checked the entrance.
At six twenty:
Nothing.
At six thirty, curtain.
Dad's seat remained empty.
Jamie saw it.
I watched his face.
Something inside him closed.
Afterward, Dad's assistant delivered flowers.
Jamie threw them into a trash can.
Eleanor watched.
Then picked them back up.
Not to save them.
She placed them on Dad's desk.
At eleven forty, Julian Cavanaugh came home.
I was upstairs.
Eleanor waited in the study.
I heard them from the hallway.
“You're still working?”
Dad sounded surprised.
“I was waiting.”
“For what?”
“You.”
Silence.
“Jamie had a play tonight.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“You remembered after somebody reminded you.”
“I had a situation.”
“You always have a situation.”
“This is none of your concern.”
“I care for your house and your children eleven hours a day. Apparently that makes it exactly my concern.”
I almost stepped forward.
Nobody talked to Dad like that.
He became very quiet.
“Be careful.”
Eleanor didn't lower her voice.
“They don't need another driver.”
No answer.
“They don't need bigger allowances.”
Nothing.
“They need to know whether their father will be in the chair he said he'd sit in.”
“My responsibilities are larger than this house.”
“And theirs are supposed to understand that?”
“My sons have everything.”
Eleanor laughed.
Actually laughed.
“That might be the saddest thing you've said since I got here.”
I held my breath.
Dad said:
“You are an employee.”
“Yes.”
“And you're overstepping.”
“Then fire me.”
Silence.
My stomach dropped.
She continued:
“But don't hire housekeeper number six and pretend the problem is that your children destroy staff.”
Then the door opened.
I jumped backward.
Eleanor saw me.
Of course.
Dad saw me too.
Nobody said anything.
She walked past.
The next morning, Dad ate breakfast with us.
No speech.
No apology.
Just sat.
Jamie stared at him like a zoo exhibit.
Roman whispered:
“Is he lost?”
Dad heard.
“Eat.”
Roman smiled.
Dad came home for dinner two nights later.
Then missed three.
But he started texting Jamie himself.
Small.
Embarrassingly small.
Still something.
May you like
That was when I realized Eleanor wasn't only refusing to let us destroy her.
She was refusing to let Dad hide either.
