It was morning. The sunlight hurt my eyes. Kelly came into the kitchen.
I felt like I had somehow missed the point of everything that had ever happened to me.
Kelly, I said. I have to talk to you.
I know.
Sit down, please.
She looked at me. She saw the dread. She sat down.
Kelly, I said, you know I love you?
She rolled her eyes.
Yes.
That I’ll always love you, no matter what?
Yes. And me too.
She said it wearily. But she meant it, I knew.
I need to know something, I said.
I know you do.
Those people.
Mommy’s AA friends?
Yes, them.
Yes, Daddy? she said with an accusing look.
Did you know about them?
Of course I did.
Why didn’t you tell me about them?
Tell you about them? Did you ever ask?
I thought about that. No, I hadn’t. But should I have?
She stared at me. I was the butterfly impaled upon a pin.
I was the victim.
I was the perpetrator.
Did I have to ask? I said lamely.
I knew the answer.
I tried to tell you, she said.
You did?
I did.
And?
And you weren’t interested.
I wasn’t?
You’d already made up your mind.
I had?
You’d given up.
I had?
You told me so.
I did?
You did. Not just in words. By everything you said and did. You didn’t want anything to do with it. You’d washed your hands.
Oh Jesus. I didn’t mean for you to think that.
I know you didn’t. But you had. You’d washed your hands of her. She knew it. I knew it.
Oh God, I said. What have I done?
I didn’t mean it that way, Daddy.
I looked in Kelly’s eyes. I had to believe in them.
A sixteen-year-old child. My conscience.
Damn.
I couldn’t ask her any more. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
I sat in the living-room chair. I looked at the empty couch.
At some point, I thought, when my mind had come back into the room, we’ll have to pack up Melissa’s things. Or something. Maybe I could hire somebody to do it.
Kelly came into the living room. She handed me a cell phone. Melissa’s.
Please, she said. Can you do something with this?
Her eyes were red.
I looked at the phone. It was just a phone. I guessed I had to cancel the service. All these things. I had to make a list. I had to find someone to make a list for me. Wasn’t there some kind of organization you could hire for that stuff?
I opened the phone. I noodled absently through the menus. Calls made. Ring tones. Little bits of Melissa.
Calls received. A long list.
Strange. I’d never seen Melissa use the damn thing.
So many things I didn’t know.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know them all. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know any of them.
One number appeared over and over on the list. At least a dozen times.
Oh Jesus.
I didn’t want to know.
I had to know.
I dialed the number slowly. As it rang, I fought a powerful urge to close the phone. Throw it away.
A male voice answered.
It was a voice I recognized.
I hung up fast.