Chapter 3
Series 1 Chapter 3
Nora Bellamy sat across from me at the kitchen counter with Diana’s book between us.
“I’m a single mother,” she said. “That’s probably why the book got to me.”
I poured her water.
She thanked me and opened her folder.
“The publisher is doing a six-part documentary series. Diana will anchor it, obviously, and Marcus will be featured throughout.”
Obviously.
Nora slid a page toward me.
“We’d like Iris involved too.”
My fingers stopped against my glass.
“Involved how?”
“Nothing invasive. A few interviews. Some photographs. Maybe a short piece about growing up with a father who modeled this kind of presence.”
I looked at the page.
Iris Voss.
Fifteen.
Daughter.
Underneath her name was a tentative heading.
THE CHILD WHO INSPIRED A GENERATION OF FATHERS.
“She’s not a case study,” I said.
Nora’s expression changed immediately.
“You’re right.”
She pulled the paper back.
“I’m sorry.”
There was no argument in her voice.
That made me look at her again.
“We can leave Iris out entirely,” she said. “But I would still like to interview you.”
“For what?”
“Three moments.”
She opened another page.
“Three times over the last fifteen years when Marcus really stepped up as a father or partner.”
I almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because three was such a small number, and I still could not give her one.
“I don’t have three moments.”
Nora waited.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
Marcus.
Mom said Nora reached out.
Then:
Just be yourself, okay?
A third message followed.
It’s not like anyone’s asking you to say something that isn’t true.
I read it twice.
Nora did not ask who was texting me.
“I can leave the questions,” she said. “You don’t have to decide today.”
She zipped the folder halfway, then stopped.
“If something in the book doesn’t match what you remember, you can say that too.”
My eyes moved toward the 2015 calendar lying beside the fruit bowl.
Nora followed my glance, but she did not reach for it.
“Would you use it?” I asked.
“Use what?”
“If I said something different.”
She considered the question.
“I’d ask why.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Her hand stayed on the zipper.
“If you sit in front of my camera and tell me something is wrong,” she said, “I won’t pretend I didn’t hear it.”
That was the first thing anyone connected to Diana’s book had said to me that did not sound like a request to make myself smaller.
After Nora left, Iris came downstairs in her socks.
She saw the leather folder on the entry table.
“Is that about Grandma’s show?”
“Documentary.”
“Am I supposed to do it?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“No?”
“You’re fifteen. You don’t owe adults a performance about your childhood.”
Her shoulders loosened slightly.
Then she noticed Diana’s book beside the folder.
“Ollie read it.”
I waited.
“His dad cried at the pancake chapter.”
She wrapped her arms around my waist from behind and rested her chin against my shoulder.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“If I tell the truth someday… will Grandma still love me?”
I covered Iris’s hands with mine.
“You never have to lie to keep an adult loving you.”
She was quiet for a moment.
“Are you going to tell her?”
“I don’t know yet.”
That night, after Iris went to bed, an email from Nora appeared in my inbox.
DOCUMENTARY INTERVIEW — PRELIMINARY QUESTIONS
I opened the attachment.
Question one was about the day Iris was born.
Question two was about Saturday pancakes.
Then I reached question three.
I stopped reading.
When Marcus taught Iris to ride her bike that Sunday afternoon, what did that moment show you about the kind of father he was?
I turned toward the kitchen counter.
The 2015 calendar was still there.
I opened it.
March 12 — Denver. Client. Next weekend.
Then March 18.
Wednesday.
Bike lesson. Iris fell twice. My hand.
My phone vibrated.
Nora.
No pressure, but I need to lock interviews tonight. Should I keep a chair for you?
I looked from her message to the question on my laptop.
For fifteen years, Marcus had been allowed to tell the story first.
I typed one word.
Yes.
Then I added:
And don’t change question three.