“Dad, if you go in guns blazing, Todd will play the victim and Paige will side with him. We have to do this right.”
“Since when did you get so calm about things?” my dad asked.
“Since I realized that being angry and being effective aren’t the same thing,” I said.
And I think that was the first time my dad ever really looked at me.
Not at the kid who went to community college.
Not at the son who wasn’t Todd.
At me.
The plan came together in May.
Caleb had tracked Todd’s pattern and confirmed he was meeting Meredith every other Thursday when he told Paige he had a late client dinner in Lynchberg.
Jenna had provided enough corroborating evidence that we didn’t need Todd to confess.
We just needed Paige to see it with her own eyes.
The idea was simple.
On the next Thursday that Todd was supposedly in Lynchberg, Caleb would invite Paige and Lily over to my parents’ house for a casual dinner.
I’d be there, too, which would be the first time I’d been back since the October blowup.
While Paige was at my parents’ house, my dad would casually suggest calling Todd to join them.
When Todd inevitably said he was stuck at his client dinner, Caleb would pull up the location sharing that Todd didn’t know was still active on the family phone plan my dad had set up years ago.
It wasn’t dramatic.
It wasn’t a spy movie.
It was just a family sitting together, looking at a map on a phone screen, and seeing that the man who claimed to be in Lynchberg was actually at a hotel in Rowan Oak, 12 minutes from their house.
We set the date.
Thursday, May 15th.
Caleb confirmed Todd’s pattern held.
Jenna confirmed through the office grapevine that Meredith had flown in from Charlotte that Wednesday.
Everything was in place.
The only question was whether I could sit across the table from my sister, knowing what was about to happen to her world, and keep my composure long enough to let the truth do what it needed to do.
I didn’t sleep the night before.
I just lay there in the dark thinking about Paige.
About the sister who used to let me borrow her CDs in middle school.
Who taught me how to slow dance before my first homecoming.
Who called me from college just to tell me she missed me.
The sister who had somehow ended up married to a man who didn’t deserve to carry her grocery bags.
This wasn’t revenge.
This was rescue.
At least that’s what I kept telling myself as the sun came up on May 15th and I got ready to drive back to my parents’ house for the first time in 7 months.
Walking into my parents’ house on May 15th felt like walking onto a stage.
My mom opened the door and settled on a stiff nod and a quiet, “Anthony.”
I nodded back.
“Mom.”
Seven months of silence condensed into a two-word exchange.
Lily ran up to me and threw her arms around my legs like I was a long-lost hero.
She immediately started telling me about her new fish, a betta named Sparkle, who apparently had a bad attitude.
I laughed for the first time in what felt like weeks.
Paige watched me from the couch.
She didn’t get up or smile, but she didn’t leave the room either.
She looked exactly like my dad had described.
Tired.
Thin.
Circles under her eyes that makeup couldn’t quite cover.
My chest ached looking at her.
Caleb was playing his part perfectly.
Casual, easy.
My dad was in the kitchen actually helping my mom with dinner, which was something I’d never seen before.
Apparently, impending family crisis had given Keith Mitchell the ability to chop vegetables.
Dinner was quiet by Mitchell standards.
No one was performing.
Lily carried the conversation, which is impressive for a kid who still confuses Thursday with Saturday.
About 45 minutes in, my dad set down his fork and looked at Paige.
“Why don’t you call Todd and tell him to come by? We’ve got plenty of food.”
Paige hesitated.
“He’s in Lynchberg tonight.”
“Client dinner on a Thursday?” my mom asked.
And I could tell she’d been coached because my mother has never in her life questioned anyone’s schedule.
“Yeah, it’s this big account he’s been working on,” Paige said.
But she said it the way people say things they’ve repeated so many times, the words have lost their meaning.
Like a prayer you recite without thinking about what it actually says.
“Just try him,” Caleb said, pulling out his phone. “Maybe he can swing by on his way home.”
Paige called Todd.
It rang four times and went to voicemail.