2. The Things We Don’t Say #3
The elevator opened. The street noise met them like a wave. Trevor’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced down.
Katelyn: Tried to get out of here early. Couldn’t. Staying late. Do not wait up
No apologies about not coming home, once again. Like she didn’t care about the fight they had early. What was the point?
He slid the phone away. “Man, fuck this! Katelyn just let me know that she would be late again.” Trevor saw a mask of anger come over Jackson’s face.
His brothers have always been protective of him.
Something that was a blessing and a curse growing up.
He couldn’t breathe without one of them commenting on it as a teenager.
But here, now? He was so thankful. Something told him that he would need Jackson’s quiet strength to get through whatever storm was coming.
“Don‘t go anywhere, I need to make a quick call.” Trevor watched his brother put his phone on speaker. Soon the voice on the other end caused Trevor to laugh.
“Jack, why is your father at my office for the third time this week to take me to lunch? Ain‘t that many gyros in Manhattan for him to be here this much.” Angelou’s voice boomed on the other end. Jackson and Trevor both laughed in response despite the tension in the air.
His brothers may not pick up on it, but Trevor saw how soft his dad spoke with Lou‘s assistant, Ms. Teri. She was a widow and a sweet lady, and definitely the motivation behind all the lunches.
“I have no clue what dad is doing, but just go with it.” Jackson responded. “I was calling for something important. You still have that P.I. on the payroll?” Trevor‘s head snapped in Jackson’s direction.
“Why does Angelou have a private investigator on payroll? The fuck he got going on? Architectural Design is not dangerous.” Trevor added.
“Mind your business, T-Money. And yes, I do, why?” Angelou asked.
“Trevor needs him to follow Katelyn for a while, see what she‘s been up to.”
“I do?” Trevor asked.
“You do,” both brothers responded simultaneously.
“I’ll reach out to him now. He’ll have something by the end of the month. This guy is good.”
“Okay, yeah then...get him. I have to go get Z.” Jackson could see Trevor’s anguish that he tried to hide.
“Bring her by the house if you want,” Jackson said. “Matthew needs someone to show him how to share.”
Trevor put on a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Text me. I might take you up on that.”
P.S. Johnson at dismissal was a happy kind of chaos. Kids spilled into the sunshine in lines that fell apart instantly. Backpacks bounced. Teachers stood with clipboards and called names over the sound of after-school plans.
Trevor found a spot near the gate and scanned the crowd. There. Zara, marching out with her class, arm in arm with a little girl who wore two different socks like it was on purpose.
When she saw him, she forgot all about lines. She barreled over and wrapped herself around his waist.
“How was your first day?” he asked, hugging her back.
“It was the best! We did stations. I’m in the blue group. We read a book about a bear who does not hibernate because he wants to be a chef. We get to bring a book from home on Friday. Ms. Henderson said my printing is neat,” Zara responded, speaking a mile a minute.
“Of course she did. Did you make any friends?”
“Jada. She likes mangoes. Ms. Henderson showed us the class plant. She said if we take care of it, it will grow. Can we get a plant at home?”
“We can get two plants at home.”
Zara beamed, “She also gave everyone an apple because it is the first day. But we have to wait to eat it until we get home because it needs to be cut up.”
Trevor laughed happy about how excited his daughter was about school, “That sounds exactly right.”
He glanced up and there she was. Aniyah stood beside the door with her clipboard.
The sleeves of her blouse were rolled to the elbow now, and there was a soft glow on her skin from the afternoon heat.
She held a red apple at the curve of her palm while she spoke to a parent, nodding and smiling.
The image pricked him with a strange sense of déjà vu, like he had seen it framed somewhere—the color graded to gold, the apple bright as a stoplight.
She looked over and found him. For a second, the crowd thinned in his mind. She lifted the apple a little, a half wave, a simple hello.
He lifted his hand in return.
Zara tugged his sleeve, “Can we get ice cream? ”
“We can get ice cream.”
“Ms. Henderson says you have to ask me about my three highlights.”
“Three?”
“She says three makes your brain think harder.”
“Then I definitely want three.”
Aniyah reached them as a last student was claimed by their parents, “Zara was a dream,” she said, voice filled with warmth and calm. “She helped a classmate zip their backpack and remembered every routine.”
Trevor felt the words land somewhere deep. “Thank you. For taking care of them. For taking care of her.”
Aniyah’s smile softened. “That is the job.” She handed Zara a small half sheet of paper. “This is our class newsletter. It has the weekly schedule, what to bring for show and tell, and my contact if you need anything. We do a family photo wall. If you email a picture, I will print it.”
Zara bounced. “Can we send the one of Papa and me in the park with the bubbles.”
“We can,” Trevor said.
Aniyah nodded. “Perfect.”
For a heartbeat, it was just the three of them. Then another parent approached with a question about dismissal, and the moment dissolved.
“Have a good evening,” Aniyah said as she turned, an apple tucked against her clipboard.
“You too,” Trevor said.
He held Zara’s hand through the crosswalk and felt steadier than he had that morning.
They stopped at Mr. B’s Ice Cream Shop with the chalkboard menu that he changed daily and the bell on the door.
Zara got strawberry flavored ice cream with rainbow sprinkles.
Trevor got coffee and pretended it was not because he needed something that would keep him present in the moment. Coffee had a way of doing that for him.
On the drive home, Zara listed her three highlights.
One. Blue group.
Two. Jada.
Three. Ms. Henderson says mistakes mean we are learning.
“Good list,” he said.
“What are your three?”
He thought of the meeting. He thought of the way a room can lean in all at once when they are hanging onto your words. Of Jackson’s quiet in an elevator being his pillar of strength in a moment drowned in melancholy. Then his mind flashed to an apple in a teacher’s hand.
“One. My meeting went well,” he said. “Two. Your hug at dismissal. Three. I remembered why I love what I do and again my meeting went really well.”
“That is four,” Zara said, thrilled to catch him.
“Keep my secret.”
She zipped her lips and tossed the imaginary key out the window. He caught it and put it in his pocket. They both grinned like they had invented joy.
Evening fell slow. Trevor made pasta while Zara did her reading log at the counter, legs swinging.
He checked his phone twice. No message from Katelyn.
He typed again and erased it again. He hated the version of himself that begged for the bare minimum.
But he was stuck, for all intents and purposes, Katelyn was his person.
She was his heart. He couldn’t understand why she wanted to continuously hurt him like this. Hurt Zara like this.
After dinner, they watched a nature show about coral reefs. He tucked Zara into bed and sat on the floor beside her while she fell asleep. Before she could close her eyes, a question fell from her lips.
“Daddy?” Her sleepy voice questioned.
“Yes, Superstar?”
“Does Mommy still love me?” Trevor felt his stomach drop to his ass and his heart began to pound.
“Why do you ask that, baby?” He was impressed that his voice did not come out as shaky as it felt.
“She never likes to do things with me anymore. She doesn’t tuck me in anymore.
When I asked if she wanted to watch Princess and the Frog with me, she said she didn’t have time and walked away.
” Trevor watched Zara intently as she took a moment to get her thoughts together, then he saw the tears begin to fall.
He quickly sat on the side of her bed and pulled her into his lap holding her tight.
“Hey, hey, hey Superstar. Of course, Mommy still loves you. She has been busy, but it isn’t right that she hasn’t made time for you and hurt your feelings.” He rocked his baby—his life—his world as she continued to cry.
“I’m sorry! If I did something wrong, I promise I won’t do it again, Daddy!” Those words set his world on fire. The heart that ached for his wife back hardened at the evidence of her neglect on their daughter.
“Listen to me, Zara,” he began, pulling her back from his chest so she could look at his face.
“You have done absolutely nothing wrong. Do you hear me? You are the greatest gift Mommy and Daddy could ask for. We love you so much. I will make sure to talk to Mommy okay?” He brought her back to his chest and felt her head nod in response.
Soon her whimpers turned to soft hiccups.
He listened to her breath even out. It steadied him knowing that she had found peace amongst her pain.
His phone lit on the nightstand.
Katelyn: Event preparation taking longer than expected. I’m going to crash at the host hotel. See you in the morning. Sorry.
He stared at the single word at the end. Sorry. It felt like a sticker slapped on a cracked window.
He typed.
We need to talk tomorrow. I’m not doing this absent shit anymore.
He hit send before he could soften it.
In the quiet after, he walked down the hall and stood in the doorway of their bedroom. The bed looked too big. The house hummed with the small sounds old houses make. He picked up a blanket from the armchair and went to the couch in the living room instead.
He lay down and stared at the ceiling. The shadows on the plaster looked like maps. He traced a route that led somewhere new .
He did not know yet if the map would take him out of a marriage, or through it, or back to himself. He only knew something had to change.
When sleep finally came, it found him on the couch with one arm over his eyes and the word tomorrow beating in his chest like a drum.