Chapter 7 - This Time, I’m Staying
Marcus could have said no.
It would have been comforting.
It also would have been a lie.
He would travel again.
He would work late sometimes.
Life would occasionally interfere with plans.
Promises could not eliminate reality.
So Marcus placed his hot chocolate beside him and turned toward Nia.
“I’m going to leave sometimes.”
Her face fell slightly.
He continued.
“But I’m not disappearing anymore.”
Nia looked at him.
“There’s a difference.”
“What?”
“When I leave for work, you’ll know where I am. You’ll know when I’m coming back. You can call me. If you need me, I answer.”
“What if you’re in a meeting?”
“I step out.”
“What if it’s important?”
Marcus smiled faintly.
“You’re important.”
Nia stared at him.
She had heard words like that before.
He knew.
So he didn’t ask her to believe him.
Thursday came.
Marcus flew to Boston.
At 7:42 that evening, while seated at a private dinner with six investors, his phone buzzed.
Nia.
He stood.
“Excuse me.”
One investor looked irritated.
Marcus stepped into the hallway.
“Hey, kiddo.”
Nia sounded surprised.
“You answered.”
“Yep.”
“I just wanted to tell you something.”
“What?”
“I got ninety-eight on my spelling test.”
Marcus leaned against the wall.
“That’s amazing.”
“I missed ‘embarrassing.’”
“I avoid spelling that word whenever possible.”
She laughed.
“When are you home?”
“My flight lands at four-thirty.”
“You promise?”
Marcus paused.
“My flight is scheduled to land at four-thirty. If something delays it, I’ll tell you myself.”
A tiny difference.
But an important one.
“Okay.”
“And Nia?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you called.”
The next afternoon weather delayed his flight.
Old Marcus would have sent a quick message through his assistant.
New Marcus called.
“Nia?”
“Your plane is late.”
“How do you know?”
“I checked.”
Marcus smiled.
“Very responsible.”
“How late?”
“Probably two hours.”
“So dinner?”
“Late dinner.”
“You’re still coming?”
“Yes.”
He arrived at the penthouse at 8:36 p.m.
Nia had refused to eat without him.
Camille complained that both Bennetts were stubborn.
Marcus brought pizza.
They ate on the living-room floor.
No dining table.
No formal plates.
Nia talked with her mouth full.
Rachel would have scolded her.
Marcus let it go.
Months turned into a year.
The criminal case concluded.
Vanessa received a sentence that included incarceration followed by strict conditions prohibiting contact with Nia.
Marcus did not celebrate.
Justice did not restore lost time.
It did create distance.
That mattered.
Nia attended therapy less frequently as she improved.
She made two new friends.
She joined a robotics club.
She started asking for things again.
A sleepover.
Roller skates.
A dog.
Marcus approved the first two and rejected the dog.
Nia was outraged.
“You said I could ask for anything.”
“I said you could ask.”
“That’s unfair.”
“That is the contractual difference between asking and receiving.”
“You sound like work.”
“Ouch.”
She crossed her arms.
“I want a dog.”
“We live on the thirty-seventh floor.”
“Dogs know elevators.”
Marcus stared at her.
She stared back.
Neither moved.
Then Nia smiled.
Marcus lost the argument three weeks later.
The dog was a rescue mutt named Newton.
Nia chose the name because of science.
Newton chewed one Italian leather chair during his first month.
Marcus looked at the shredded leather.
Then at Nia.
She waited nervously.
For one terrible second, he saw the old fear return.
Marcus understood what she expected.
He crouched beside the destroyed chair.
“How much do you think Newton owes me?”
Nia blinked.
“What?”
“This chair was expensive.”
Newton wagged his tail.
“He doesn’t have money.”
“Convenient.”
Nia laughed.
Marcus rubbed the dog’s ears.
“We’ll work out a payment plan.”
The fear left her face.
Marcus remembered that moment for years.
Not because of the chair.
Because safety sometimes meant discovering you could make a mistake and the world would not end.
On the anniversary of Rachel’s death, Marcus asked Nia what she wanted to do.
They used to visit the cemetery.
Nia shook her head.
“Can we go to the zoo?”
Marcus smiled.
Lincoln Park Zoo.
Rachel loved it.
They went on a cold Saturday morning.
Nia wore Rachel’s old red scarf wrapped twice around her neck.
They stopped near the lion habitat.
“That picture used to be in the hallway,” Nia said.
Marcus knew which one.
Rachel holding four-year-old Nia near the same spot.
“I found it.”
“Where?”
“In a box Vanessa hid.”
Nia became quiet.
“Can we put it back?”
“Yes.”
“Not in your room.”
“Where?”
“The hallway.”
Marcus nodded.
“The hallway.”
They ate lunch at a café afterward.
Nia ordered fries.
Marcus stole one.
She slapped his hand lightly.
“That’s mine.”
“Sharing builds character.”
“Buy your own character.”
Marcus laughed so hard several people turned.
Rachel would have loved that line.
Back home, they opened the box of photographs together.
Marcus let Nia decide where each one went.
Rachel returned to the bookshelf.
The hallway.
Marcus’s room.
Nia’s desk.
Not as a shrine.
As family.
At the bottom of the box was one photograph Marcus had forgotten existed.
Rachel, Marcus, and Nia lying on a picnic blanket.
Nia was maybe three.
Marcus’s eyes were closed.
Rachel was laughing.
Little Nia had both hands wrapped around his nose.
Nia held the picture.
“You looked younger.”
“I was younger.”
“You had more hair.”
“That was unnecessary.”
She giggled.
Then she asked, “Do you think Mommy knew?”
“Knew what?”
“That you’d be okay?”
Marcus looked at the photograph.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think she knew I’d be okay?”
He looked at Nia.
A year earlier she had been afraid to drink water without permission.
Now she argued about dogs, grades, bedtime, music and French fries.
She had bad days.
Some nights nightmares returned.
Sometimes a smell or voice or particular shade of purple made her freeze.
Healing was not a straight road.
But she was walking it.
“I think she hoped you would be.”
Nia nodded.
“Me too.”
That evening Marcus cooked dinner.
Poorly.
Nia inspected a burned piece of chicken.
“What is this?”
“Dinner.”
“It’s black.”
“It’s seared.”
“It’s charcoal.”
“Very fancy charcoal.”
Nia laughed.
They ordered Chinese food.
Later she completed homework at the kitchen island while Newton slept beneath her stool.
Marcus answered emails nearby.
At eight-thirty his phone rang.
A client.
He looked at the screen.
Then silenced it.
Nia noticed.
“You can answer.”
“I can call back tomorrow.”
“Is it important?”
“Probably.”
She looked confused.
“But you’re not answering?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
Marcus pointed at her homework.
“Because apparently I have to explain fractions.”
“I know fractions.”
“Then I’m here for emotional support.”
“You’re terrible at math.”
“I run an investment company.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re good at fourth-grade math.”
Fair point.
Marcus leaned over the worksheet.
After ten minutes, Nia finished.
She closed the book.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember when I asked if you were going to leave again?”
Marcus nodded.
“I was scared.”
“I know.”
“I thought everything would go back.”
His expression softened.
“Does it still feel like that?”
“Sometimes.”
He waited.
“But not all the time.”
Marcus smiled.
“That sounds like progress.”
Nia looked toward the hallway.
Rachel’s photograph was there again.
Exactly where it belonged.
“Can we listen to Mommy tonight?”
“Absolutely.”
They went to the living room.
Nia curled under a blanket.
Newton immediately jumped beside her.
Marcus pressed play on the recorder.
Rachel’s voice filled the room.
“Nia says I sound weird on recordings.”
Nine-year-old Nia smiled.
“You do.”
Marcus laughed.
The old recording continued.
A younger Marcus could be heard somewhere in the background.
“Has anyone seen my coffee?”
Rachel laughed.
“You mean the coffee sitting in your hand?”
Nia burst out laughing.
Marcus covered his face.
“I had forgotten that.”
“You’re embarrassing.”
“I know how to spell it now.”
She laughed harder.
The recording ended.
For a while they sat in comfortable silence.
Then Nia rested her head against Marcus’s shoulder.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re really staying?”
Marcus looked at the girl beside him.
He thought about all the grand promises he used to make.
Trips.
Weekends.
Somedays.
Soons.
This time he didn’t give her one.
He picked up her math book instead.
“Unfortunately for you, yes. Tomorrow we’re reviewing fractions again.”
Nia groaned.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I hate fractions.”
“Good. A normal childhood problem.”
She threw a pillow at him.
Marcus caught it.
Newton barked.
Nia laughed.
Loudly.
Not cautiously.
Not with one eye on the hallway.
Not like someone waiting to learn whether laughter was allowed.
She laughed until she could barely breathe.
Marcus listened.
There had been a time when he believed silence meant peace.
He knew better now.
Peace sounded like his daughter arguing with him.
It sounded like a dog barking in an apartment where dogs supposedly didn’t belong.
It sounded like Rachel’s old voice coming through a cheap recorder.
It sounded like Nia asking questions without fear of the answers.
And, most of all, it sounded like laughter that nobody was trying to silence.
Marcus looked at Rachel’s photograph across the room.
Then at his daughter.
Their family was different now.
Smaller in one way.
Larger in another.
There were wounds they could not erase.
Mistakes he could never undo.
But love, Marcus finally understood, was not proven by the life you could provide for someone.
It was proven by presence.
By noticing.
By listening.
By staying when staying was inconvenient.
Nia grabbed another pillow.
Marcus pointed at her.
“Don’t even think about it.”
She grinned.
Then threw it anyway.
He laughed.
For once, his daughter had ignored exactly what he told her to do.
May you like
And Marcus Bennett had never been happier.
THE END
