Chapter 2 - Where Did You Get That Seal
The envelope didn't look like mail. It sat on the granite island and changed the air in the kitchen.
Laura hadn't touched it. Her hands were still braced on the edge of the counter where she'd been plating dinner for her kids. Their plates were already by the stove, steam curling up. My spot at the island was empty except for a glass of water I hadn't drunk. My stomach made a noise I tried to hide by breathing through my mouth.
Dad's hand rested lightly over the envelope. He hadn't opened it. He'd just set it down like he wanted us to see that it was sealed.
Laura stared at the wax. Dark red, almost brown in the warm kitchen light. The twine was tied once, neat. Her mouth opened a little, then closed.
"Where did you get that?" she said. Her voice was strained, thinner than when she'd been shouting. She wasn't looking at Dad anymore. She was looking only at the seal.
I saw it happen. Her shoulders had been tight and forward when she was yelling, her neck strained, her chin up like she was daring him to argue with her. Now her shoulders dropped a fraction and her eyes widened. The color left her face. It wasn't anger anymore. It was something quieter and colder. Fear. Her hand lifted without her seeming to mean it, then stopped halfway.
Dad didn't answer right away. He glanced at me first. Just a quick check, his eyes moving from Laura to me and back. I was standing on the other side of the island from him, my white t-shirt sticking to my back a little because I'd been sweating.
"Before you open it, there's something you need to know," he said. His voice was low and even, the way he talked when he didn't want to scare me. He kept his palm over the envelope.
"What's inside?" I asked before I could stop myself. It came out small. Laura flinched at the sound of me speaking, like she'd forgotten I was there.
Laura looked at me then, fast. "Ethan, honey —" she started, but she didn't finish. Her eyes went right back to the envelope.
Dad shook his head once, not at me, not at her. At the idea of opening it right then. "Not like this," he said. "Not in front of the kids."
Laura's fingers tightened on the granite. "You brought that here to —" She stopped herself. She swallowed. "Daniel, where did you get that seal? Who gave that to you?"
He didn't move his hand. The wax caught the light. "Someone who thought we needed to have this conversation before it got worse. But I'm not doing it with everyone standing in the kitchen hungry."
The kitchen felt too warm. The stove was still on low under a pan, and I could smell the pasta. Her kids were in the living room — I could hear the TV on low, cartoon music, and one of them laughing at something. They didn't know anything had changed. I wanted to be in there with them and also wanted to stay exactly where I was so Dad wouldn't leave again.
"You recognize the seal," Dad said quietly. It wasn't a question.
Laura didn't answer. She just stared. Her lower lip trembled for a second and she pressed it still with her teeth. I had never seen her look at Dad like she was afraid of what he knew.
Dad looked at me again, really looked at me this time. "Buddy, can you go sit with them for a few minutes? I need to talk to Laura alone. Then we'll all eat together. I promise."
My chest pulled tight. I didn't want to leave the island because I thought if I left, the envelope would get opened without me and I'd never know. But Dad's eyes were steady and he gave me that small nod he used when he meant it.
"What about dinner?" I asked.
"We're going to fix it," he said. "Just give us five minutes. Okay?"
Laura pushed back from the counter suddenly, like she needed air. "I need — I need a minute," she said, and she walked out of the kitchen, down the dark hallway toward the bedroom, her hands empty. She didn't look back at the plates.
Dad stayed where he was. He slid the envelope a little closer to him, his hand flat over it, keeping the seal safe and unbroken. He watched the hallway until her footsteps faded, then he looked at me and took a slow breath.
May you like
"Go on," he said softly. "I've got this. Nobody's opening anything until the kids are out of the room."
I started toward the living room, but I looked back once. The envelope was still sealed on the granite, under Dad's hand, waiting.
