Chapter 3 - THE EMAIL I NEVER ANSWERED
The next morning, I took Mason to school myself.
Afterward, I called his teacher.
Mrs. Greene hesitated when I asked whether she had noticed anything unusual.
“Actually, yes.”
She reminded me about an email she sent six weeks earlier.
I searched my inbox while she waited.
There it was.
Mason has recently written several sentences about being worried his dad will “start a new family” and send him somewhere else. I’d like to check in.
I remembered forwarding it to Vanessa during a meeting.
Her reply later had been:
Handled. He was being dramatic about family changes.
I had never followed up.
Mrs. Greene continued.
“He’s also asked twice whether grandparents can become your parents if a stepmother doesn’t want you.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did he say why?”
“He said his grandmother told him sometimes children live where they’re most comfortable.”
That afternoon, I asked Mason directly.
“Did Grandma tell you that you might live with her?”
He nodded.
“Vanessa said maybe weekdays.”
My stomach tightened.
I called my mother.
She answered cheerfully.
“Did Mason have a better morning?”
“Did you discuss him living with you?”
Silence.
“Ryan—”
“Answer me.”
“Vanessa was overwhelmed.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
Mom sighed.
“We discussed options.”
Without me.
“What options?”
“Mason spending more time here.”
“How much more?”
“A few school nights.”
I stood in my office parking lot staring at my truck.
“You were discussing moving my son out of my house.”
“Nobody said moving.”
“What did Emily write about Vanessa?”
Mom went quiet again.
Then she said, “You’re connecting things that aren’t connected.”
Maybe.
But by that evening I had found something else.
An old voicemail from Emily.
I had saved dozens during her illness because deleting her voice felt impossible.
In one, recorded three weeks before she died, she sounded tired.
Ryan, your mom keeps bringing Vanessa around. I know she means well, but something about the way they talk about Mason when they think I’m asleep makes me uncomfortable. We need to talk.
I had listened to that voicemail seventeen months earlier.
I remembered calling Emily later.
I did not remember the conversation.
I remembered the reason.
I had been at work.
May you like
And I had told myself we would deal with it when I got home.
We never did.
