Dad had sent him a Christmas video.
Carl said he had listened to that laugh more times than he could count.
I sat at the table for a long time.
Dad remained standing across the kitchen.
When I finally looked at him, his eyes were wet.
I had seen my father cry only a handful of times.
“YOU sent him pictures?”
Dad nodded.
“Every birthday. Every Christmas.”
“He asked you to?”
“Yes.”
“And you agreed?”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Dad took a long breath.
“There were so many times I almost did.”
He told me Carl called once each year on Lily’s birthday.
Every year, Dad considered breaking the promise.
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Dad looked directly at me.
“Because you rebuilt your life.”
He said he had watched me slowly put myself together.
He had watched Lily grow.
He was terrified that telling me Carl’s truth might destroy whatever stability I had managed to create.
