I remember thinking then: good, my youngest found a solid man. Allison had already been married five years by that point, living across town with her husband and their two boys. Katie had found her person too. Everything looked good.
Then they rented an apartment for a year on the other side of town. Seemed to be doing fine. Katie would stop by and say things were going well.
Mike had gotten a raise. They were saving for a house. I was glad for them. Then about a year ago Katie called and said, “Dad, would it be okay if we moved in for a while? Rent’s killing us, and we want to save faster.” I said yes, of course.
Susan agreed too. We had the room. No point letting it sit empty. So Mike became part of the household. The first few months were quiet.
They lived their life, we lived ours. Mike worked from home, Katie commuted to the office. In the evenings we’d eat together, sometimes watch TV. Just ordinary family life.
But about three months earlier, I’d noticed Katie was getting tense. She’d come home from work and go straight to their room. She and Mike would whisper sometimes, and if I walked in, they’d stop.
Mike got more withdrawn too. I chalked it up to stress. People have their own problems. Then this started.
Katie’s work trips began stacking up. Before, she traveled once every couple months. Now suddenly she was gone all the time. A week away, home for three days, then gone again.
And right in the middle of that, Susan started going into Mike’s room at night. Coincidence? I didn’t believe in coincidence.
I walked all the way to the shopping plaza, bought a coffee I didn’t want, and sat on a bench outside a pharmacy. It tasted like cardboard. I pulled out my phone, opened the camera app, and watched the previous night again. Susan knocks. Mike opens. She goes in. She comes out.
Nothing new. But now I had those scraps of conversation too. “It’s not your fault. Katie isn’t ready to know.”
Not ready to know what? And what exactly wasn’t his fault? Then a thought hit me: maybe this was about Katie. Maybe she was sick and they were hiding it from me.
Maybe that was why Mike was falling apart and Susan was trying to hold him together. But if that were true, why keep it from me? I’m her father. I had a right to know. And why say “it’s not your fault”? Fault for what?
I called Katie. She picked up on the fourth ring.
“Hey, Dad. Everything okay?” Her voice sounded tired. I pictured her in some hotel room with a laptop open on the bed. “Yeah, fine. Just wanted to hear your voice. How are things? When are you coming back?”
“Day after tomorrow. I’m okay. Just tired.” Then she asked, “How’s Mike doing? Is he okay?” There it was. She was asking about him.
So she was worried. So she knew something. “Seems okay. Should he not be?” I asked. Silence.
“No, nothing like that. He’s just seemed kind of shut down lately, and I worry.” “Katie, are things okay between you two? Tell me straight.” “Yeah, Dad. We’re okay. Just a lot of work for both of us. That’s all.”
She was lying. I knew it in her voice. My daughter—the one I taught to ride a bike, the one I walked to school—was lying to me.
Just like Susan. Just like Mike. Everybody was lying. “All right,” I said. “Come home soon. We miss you.” “I miss you too. Tell Mom and Mike I said hi.”
She hung up. I stared at the screen. “Tell Mike I said hi.” She was worried about him, but she wouldn’t tell me why.
I got home around lunchtime. Susan met me at the door, looking guilty. “Victor, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Fine,” I muttered, taking off my jacket. “Forget it.” But I didn’t forget. Not for a second. I just decided I’d handle it differently…
