Chapter 2 - The Man Who Had Always Believed His Son
Daniel couldn't immediately press play.
His thumb remained suspended above the screen.
Mia stood beside him, breathing rapidly. Her blouse was still torn, but her tears had stopped.
His father remained against the wall, one hand on his cheek.
Keisha took a cautious step forward.
"Daddy, can you sit down?"
"I'm all right."
"You almost fell."
Harrison shook his head.
But when he tried to move away from the wall, his balance faltered.
Keisha reached him before Daniel could.
"Come on, Daddy. Just sit for a minute."
She guided him to an upholstered chair at the far end of the hallway.
Daniel followed instinctively.
"Dad, let me help—"
"Don't."
The single word stopped him.
Harrison didn't raise his voice.
He simply withdrew from his son's outstretched hand.
Daniel had been afraid of his father's anger before. As a teenager, he had dented the family car and once been suspended for fighting at school.
But Harrison had never looked at him this way.
As though Daniel himself had become someone unpredictable.
Keisha crouched beside their father.
"Does your head hurt?"
"My cheek."
"Are you dizzy?"
"A little shaken. That's all."
Keisha looked up at Daniel.
"Get something cold."
He went downstairs, past the relatives lingering near the staircase.
Nobody asked him what happened.
They had heard enough shouting to understand that something terrible had occurred, but not enough to know whom to believe.
Daniel returned with ice wrapped in a clean dish towel.
Keisha took it from him.
Harrison accepted the compress without looking at his son.
Mia approached.
"Can we please go downstairs? Everybody is staring."
Keisha turned.
"My father's face is swelling."
"And I'm standing here with my shirt torn open!"
"You have another shirt upstairs," Keisha answered. "He can't change what happened to his face."
Mia opened her mouth, then closed it.
Daniel stared at the phone in his hand.
He remembered being eight years old and falling off his bicycle outside their old house.
His knee had been bleeding. He'd told Harrison that another boy had pushed him.
Harrison hadn't shouted at the other child.
He had cleaned Daniel's knee, brought both boys onto the porch, and asked them what happened.
The truth was that Daniel had been showing off, lost his balance, and fallen.
Harrison had listened before deciding.
Daniel had forgotten that lesson in the exact moment he needed it.
His father had spent thirty years working as a city maintenance supervisor. He was the man neighbors called when a pipe burst or a car wouldn't start. After Evelyn died, he still showed up every Sunday with groceries and small things he thought his grown children might need.
That evening, he had brought the family album because Daniel had asked to see photographs from his parents' early marriage.
He had been searching for a picture of Evelyn wearing the blue dress she'd sewn herself.
And somehow the evening had ended with Daniel striking him.
"Why were you upstairs together?" Daniel asked.
Harrison answered without looking up.
"Mia offered to help me find the box of photographs you wanted. Then she started asking why I didn't approve of her."
Mia crossed her arms.
"Because you don't."
"I told you I wanted you and Daniel to be happy."
"You told me marriage shouldn't mean shutting out family!"
"Because you've been asking Daniel to cancel Sunday visits."
Daniel looked toward her.
Mia had complained about those visits for months.
She called them intrusive. Said Harrison was always checking up on them. Said Daniel couldn't build a marriage if his father remained involved in everything.
Daniel had begun skipping Sundays.
He had never asked Harrison how that felt.
Mia stepped closer.
"He's twisting everything. You know how judgmental he can be."
Harrison lowered the compress.
"Daniel, I wasn't threatening her. I wasn't even standing near her."
Keisha glanced toward the console.
The family album remained where Harrison had placed it.
Its pages were still open to Daniel's graduation photograph.
"Dan," she said, "you saw Dad put that album down right before you hit him. He was trying to explain."
Daniel closed his eyes.
He remembered.
He had seen his father place the album on the table.
He had heard the first words of his denial.
Then he'd decided those words didn't matter.
Mia reached toward his sleeve.
"Let's just go to our room. We can deal with this privately."
Daniel stepped away.
"No."
"Daniel—"
"No more deciding what happened before we look."
He returned to the security application.
The camera's recorded timeline showed the minutes before Mia screamed.
He selected an earlier point and paused.
A thumbnail appeared.
Harrison stood on the left side of the hallway, his attention fixed on the open album.
Mia was several feet behind him.
Both her hands were positioned against the front of her shirt.
Daniel enlarged the preview.
His stomach tightened.
"Mia."
She stared at the screen.
"What?"
Daniel looked up slowly.
"Why are both your hands pulling on your own shirt?"
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The hallway fell quiet again.
And this time, nobody rushed to answer for Harrison.
