Chapter 8
The hospital was a blur of white coats and beeping machines.
Evelyn was in the ICU for three days.
Broken ribs.
Concussion.
Internal bruising.
But no permanent damage.
Marcus was in the Metropolitan Correctional Center, held without bail.
The charges were a mile long.
Murder.
Attempted murder.
Racketeering.
Embezzlement.
Arson conspiracy.
The prosecution said they’d seek life without parole.
Arthur handled the lawyers.
Joseph handled the security.
Mom handled everything else.
I sat by Evelyn’s bed every day.
I colored her pictures.
I read her books.
I told her about school—about the private school she’d enrolled me in, starting that fall. About the uniform I’d get to wear. About the math I was already learning.
On the fourth day, they moved her to a private room.
She was sitting up in bed, eating Jell-O, when the knock came.
A police officer stood in the doorway.
“Mrs. Whitmore? Miss Whitmore? There’s someone here to see you. Says he’s family.”
Mom stood up.
“Who?”
The officer stepped aside.
A man walked in.
He was in his late thirties.
Tall.
Thin.
He had my father’s eyes.
“Hello, Sarah,” he said.
Mom froze.
“Michael?”
“In the flesh.”
They stared at each other across the room.
Michael was Daddy’s younger brother.
The only family Daddy had left.
He had moved to California when I was a baby.
Mom had lost touch with him after Daddy died.
“I saw the news,” Michael said. “About Marcus. About the company. About… everything. I took the first flight out.”
He looked at me.
His face softened.
“This must be Lila.”
I nodded.
“I’m your uncle Michael,” he said. “Your dad was my big brother. He taught me to ride a bike. He bailed me out of jail twice. He was the best man I ever knew.”
He held out a hand.
I shook it.
His hand was warm. Rough. Like Daddy’s had been.
“I have something for you,” he said. He pulled a flat package wrapped in brown paper from his bag. “David left this with me the week before he died. He said if anything ever happened to him, I was to give it to Lila on her tenth birthday. But… given everything that’s happened… I think now is better.”
I unwrapped the package.
Inside was a painting.
It was me.
I was three years old, sitting on Daddy’s shoulders in Central Park.
The leaves were turning red and gold.
I was laughing.
Daddy was looking up at me like I was the whole world.
On the back, in Daddy’s handwriting:
For my Lila.
Never forget that you are loved.
Never forget that you are strong.
Never forget that you come from people who would burn the world down to keep you safe.
And if the world ever tries to break you…
You burn it back first.
Love,
Daddy
I held the painting to my chest.
I cried.
Mom cried too.
Even Evelyn had tears in her eyes.
Michael stayed for dinner that night—takeout pasta in Evelyn’s hospital room.
He told us stories about Daddy.
About the time they tried to dig a tunnel to China from their backyard.
About the time Daddy crashed his first car into the neighbor’s swimming pool.
About the day Daddy brought Mom home for the first time and told his parents he was going to marry her.
“He was so nervous,” Michael said, laughing. “He threw up in the bushes before he even rang the doorbell.”
Mom laughed through her tears.
“He never told me that.”
“Men don’t tell you those things,” Michael said. “We want you to think we’re brave. Even when we’re terrified.”
Evelyn was quiet through most of it.
When Michael left, she reached for Mom’s hand.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “About Marcus.”
Mom stiffened.
“What about him?”
“He asked to see me. The prison called this morning. Says he’ll only talk to me.”
“Mom, no. After everything he did—”
“I know what he did. I was there. I have the broken ribs to prove it.” Evelyn squeezed her hand. “But Sarah… he’s my brother. Or at least, he’s the only brother I ever had. We grew up together. We played together. We fought together. And for thirty years, I loved him like family. Even when I hated him.”
She looked out the window at the city below.
“I need to hear what he has to say. I need to know if any of it was real. If any of the love was ever there. And if it wasn’t… then I need to say goodbye properly. For both our sakes.”
Mom hesitated.
Then she nodded.
“Okay. But I’m going with you. And Joseph is coming too. And two guards. No arguments.”
Evelyn smiled.
“Deal.”
The visit was three days later.
Rikers Island.
The visiting room was gray and cold.
Thick Plexiglas separated us from the inmates.
Marcus was led in by two guards.
He was wearing an orange jumpsuit.
His hands were cuffed.
His hair had gone almost completely white in the week since we’d seen him.
He sat down on the other side of the glass.
He picked up the phone.
Evelyn picked up hers.
“Hello, Marcus.”
“Evelyn.”
They looked at each other.
No anger now.
No hatred.
Just two tired old people who had wasted too many years fighting.
“Sarah told you,” Marcus said. “About being Henry’s son.”
“She did.”
“Did you know?”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“I suspected,” she said. “Sometimes. When you and Henry would fight. When you’d get that same stubborn look on your face. When you’d make the same terrible jokes at Thanksgiving. But he never told me. Not in so many words. I think he was ashamed. Ashamed of the affair. Ashamed of the lie. Ashamed of what he’d done to all of us.”
Marcus nodded slowly.
“I would have been happy,” he said. “You know that? If he’d just told me when I was young. If he’d just put his arm around me and said ‘you’re mine.’ I would have been the best son he ever had. I would have run the company with him. I would have protected Sarah. I would have been the brother she deserved. Instead… I became the monster he was so afraid of.”
He looked past Evelyn, at Mom standing behind her.
“I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said. “About David. About Lila. About all of it. There’s no excuse. There’s no explanation. I was angry. And I let that anger eat me alive until there was nothing left but the hunger to hurt someone the way I’d been hurt.”
He looked at me.
I was standing by the door, holding Joseph’s hand.
“Tell that little girl I’m sorry,” he said. “Tell her I never wanted it to go this far. Tell her she has her grandfather’s eyes. And her grandmother’s backbone. And her father’s heart. Tell her she’s going to change the world someday.”
He set the phone down.
The guards came for him.
He didn’t look back.
Evelyn held the phone to her ear for a long time after he was gone.
Then she slowly set it down.
May you like
She stood up.
“Let’s go home,” she said.
