Chapter 15
The diner was empty and I had the key. That was new.
I opened at six like always, but Sheriff Reyes told me to keep the sign on Closed and the blinds half down. Daylight came in flat through the slats and laid stripes across the red counter I'd scrubbed clean the night before. No coffee brewing yet. I'd washed the carafe after the spill and set it on the back shelf, but I kept the black lid in my apron pocket. My hand kept finding it.
Reyes came in through the front at seven. He didn't knock. He had a thin manila folder and two paper cups from the gas station.
"You didn't have to come in early," he said.
"I wanted to," I said.
He set the folder on the counter and didn't open it right away. "We filed it," he said. "At eight this morning the county clerk reclassified your father's case. It's homicide now. Not accident. Not unsolved. Homicide. His name's clear."
I nodded. My throat got tight and I didn't try to talk through it.
Reyes slid the folder toward me. Inside was a single sheet, a amended death certificate and a one-page summary with a case number stamped on top. Michael Aaron Ellis. Date of death twenty-four years and three months ago. Cause refiled pending prosecution of principals. I stared at his middle name. Ellis. My mom's name was Ellis. I'd never known it was his too.
"That's his name," I said.
"That's your name if you want it," Reyes said. "The foundation head is in custody downtown. So are the two men from yesterday. Ledger's in evidence. Their lawyer talked already. They aren't getting out before a judge sees them. And that judge will see homicide."
I touched the paper. "So it's done."
"The case is open until trial, but the lie is done," he said. "Your dad didn't walk away. He didn't leave you. I knew him a little. He parked cars at the church lot for extra money before you were born. He was quiet."
I folded the sheet and put it back. My hand went to the lid in my pocket. The plastic was warm.
My mom came in at seven-thirty. Reyes had called her. She pushed the door like she wasn't sure she was allowed.
She looked smaller without her work blazer. She wore a gray sweatshirt and jeans and her hair was pulled back. She stopped at the pie case and just looked at me across the counter.
"I told you he left because I was scared," she said. No hello. Her voice shook.
I came around the counter so we weren't separated by laminate. We sat in the booth by the window, the one where the two men had stood and stared. She kept her hands knotted together.
"I was nineteen," she said. "They told me if I said accident, they'd leave us alone. They gave us money for rent through the church foundation. I thought if I said he left, you wouldn't ask questions. You wouldn't go looking."
"You let me think my dad didn't want me," I said. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't need to.
"I know," she said, and her eyes filled. "I know what I did. I thought I was protecting you. I kept you small so they wouldn't see you. That was wrong. I'm sorry. I am so sorry, honey."
Honey. She hadn't called me that since I was in high school.
I breathed. The blinds ticked when the heat kicked on.
"I kept the lid," I said, and I didn't know why I said it then, but I took the black lid out and set it on the table between us. "From the carafe. When it spilled."
She looked at it, confused, then she understood it was just something my hands had held onto.
"I want to keep his name," I said. "Ellis is his name too. I want to learn who he was. Not just how he died."
She reached across and didn't quite touch my hand. Then she did. Her hand was cold. "You should," she said. "I have pictures I never showed you. In a box in my closet. I can bring them tonight. If you want."
"I want them," I said. "But I'm not moving home. And I'm not pretending it didn't happen."
She nodded fast, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "Okay. Okay. Can I come back tomorrow? Before your shift?"
"Yes," I said.
She left the lid where it was. I picked it up and put it back in my pocket.
Raymond knocked at eight. The biker.
He'd changed his vest for a clean dark shirt. He held his helmet in his hands like he didn't know what to do with it. He stood at the door until I waved him in.
Reyes had already gone to his cruiser outside to give us space.
Raymond looked at my mom's booth, then at me. "You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said. "We're okay."
He set his helmet on the counter. "Sheriff said you got the paper."
"I did."
He hesitated. "Your mom?"
"She came. She apologized."
He nodded, relief showing around his eyes. He'd been carrying that for twenty-four years too.
"I told Reyes I'm available if you need anything," he said carefully. "Groceries, ride to the courthouse, fixing that back step at your apartment. I don't want to assume."
I knew what he was offering. The day before he'd whispered pretend I'm your dad and I'd held on because I had no choice. Now we both had a choice.
"Ray," I said. "Thank you for stepping in. For keeping your promise to him. You saved me yesterday."
"He was my brother," he said. "Not blood. But he would've done same."
"I know," I said. "And you can visit. You can come for coffee. You can tell me stories about him if you want. But you're not my dad. And I don't want you paying my rent or trying to make up for him with money. I returned the foundation check. I'm paying my own way. That's how I need it."
He looked down, then back up. He wasn't hurt. If anything he looked lighter.
"Boundary's good," he said. "I like visits. I don't want to be anybody's replacement."
"Then we're good," I said.
He smiled for the first time since he'd walked in. "You kept the lid, huh? Saw it in your pocket yesterday."
I laughed, a real sound that surprised me. I took it out again. "Evidence."
"Keep it," he said. "Or throw it out. You don't need a busted carafe to remember."
"I think I'll keep it a little longer," I said. "Then I'll decide."
At nine I flipped the sign to Open. Reyes tipped his cup to me from his cruiser and pulled away. My mom would be back tonight with a box. Raymond left his helmet and said he'd walk back for it later so he'd have a reason to come again.
May you like
The diner was warm now. Sun full on the counter. I brewed a fresh pot, fitted the black lid back on the clean carafe, and poured. The spill was gone. The counter shined red. I stood where I always stood, but I wasn't waiting for someone to tell me who I was anymore.
I knew my name.
