"No, Richard. This conversation should have started a long time ago."
Meanwhile, Marcus stood in the kitchen, washing his hands.
He looked at himself in the reflection of the dark window.
He could still hear his father's voice.
Can't you sit still for five minutes?
You never seem to learn.
Don't expect anyone to help you.
He pressed his lips together.
He had heard similar words before, but tonight they seemed to hurt more.
He remembered his mother sitting beside him at the kitchen table years earlier. He had accidentally spilled an entire glass of milk, and he had immediately started crying because he thought she would be angry.
Instead, Angela had laughed gently.
"Marcus, sweetheart, it's only milk."
"But I made a mess."
"Then we'll clean it together."
She had handed him a towel.
"Do you know what matters more than a clean table?"
He had shaken his head.
"People. Tables can be cleaned. People need to be cared for."
Marcus closed his eyes.
He wished she were there.
He wished she could see what had happened.
And he wished, more than anything, that his father remembered how she had raised him.
A few minutes later, James entered the kitchen.
He found Marcus standing beside the sink.
"Hey, young man."
Marcus quickly wiped his eyes.
"Hi, Uncle."
James leaned against the counter.
"You don't have to pretend with me."
Marcus looked down.
"I'm sorry about dinner."
James stared at him.
"Why are you apologizing to me?"
"Because everyone was upset."
"Everyone?"
Marcus nodded.
James pulled out a chair.
"Sit with me for a minute."
Marcus sat.
James waited until the boy looked up.
"Do you know what I saw tonight?"
Marcus shook his head.
"I saw a boy who made a small mistake and immediately tried to fix it. I saw a boy who apologized even though he didn't mean to hurt anyone. And I saw a boy who was more worried about disappointing everyone else than about himself."
Marcus's eyes filled again.
James continued.
"That's not something you should have to carry."
"But Dad says I need to be more careful."
"Being careful is good. Learning from mistakes is good. But being afraid of making mistakes is not."
Marcus remained silent.
Then he asked a question that James would remember for the rest of his life.
"Uncle, do you think Dad wishes I were different?"
James felt his chest tighten.
"Why would you ask that?"
Marcus shrugged.
"Because he never seems happy with me."
James moved closer.
"Listen carefully. Your father may be making mistakes, but that doesn't mean there is something wrong with you."
Marcus looked at him.
"Sometimes I think he would be happier if I wasn't here."
James immediately shook his head.
"Don't ever believe that."
"But Vanessa says he deserves to have a peaceful life."
James became very still.
"What exactly did she say?"
Marcus hesitated.
"She says I remind him of Mom. She says he can't move forward if I keep bringing up the past."
James stared at the boy.
He had suspected that Vanessa was creating distance between Richard and his son, but he had not realized how deeply her words had affected Marcus.
"Does she say that often?"
"Sometimes."
"And what does your father say?"
Marcus looked down.
"He usually tells me to listen to her."
James closed his eyes briefly.
Then he asked another question.
"Have you spoken to your father about how you feel?"
Marcus shook his head.
"Why?"
"Because he gets angry."
James nodded slowly.
"All right. Then perhaps it's time someone helped him understand."
That evening, James did something he had been considering for months.
He called his mother.
Margaret Reed was seventy-two years old. She lived in a quiet neighborhood outside the city and rarely involved herself in her sons' disagreements.
But she had known Angela well.
And she had loved Marcus from the day he was born.
When James explained what had happened, Margaret became quiet.
Then she asked:
"Is the boy all right?"
"He's trying to be."
Margaret sighed.
"I knew something was wrong."
"What do you mean?"
"I called him last week. He barely spoke. He used to tell me everything."
James looked toward the kitchen.
"Mother, I think Vanessa has convinced him that he's a burden."
Margaret's voice became firm.
"Then Richard needs to wake up before he loses his son."
The following morning, Margaret arrived at Richard's house without warning.
Richard was preparing to leave for work when he saw her standing in the entrance.
"Mom? What are you doing here?"
"I came to see my grandson."
"He's upstairs."
"Then call him."
Richard frowned.
"Is something wrong?"
Margaret looked directly at him.
"Yes, Richard. Something has been wrong for a long time."
Vanessa appeared behind him.
"Good morning, Margaret."
Margaret acknowledged her with a brief nod.
Then she turned toward the staircase.
"Marcus!"
A moment later, the boy appeared.
When he saw his grandmother, his expression changed.
"Grandma!"
He walked down quickly.