I closed my eyes.
“Sophie was keeping score because she was trying to figure out whether she belonged.”
Dad went quiet.
“That is not fair.”
“To who?”
“To us.”
I waited.
“You know we love her.”
“Then tell me where her picture is.”
Nothing.
He finally said, “This has gotten completely out of proportion.”
“No.”
I looked at the folder on my desk.
“I think the proportions are finally correct.”
He ended the call soon after.
Mom tried next.
She used the word misunderstanding four times.
I let her speak.
Then I asked one question.
“When you called Tyler’s kids for the grandchildren photo, did you think about Sophie?”
The pause lasted so long I looked at my phone to make sure the call had not dropped.
Finally she said, “I should have called her.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Another pause.
“No.”
There it was.
No excuses.
No photographer.
No chaos.
Just no.
I swallowed.
“Thank you.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s what I needed.”
“You’re still cutting us off financially?”
“Yes.”
“Daniel.”
“The money and Sophie are not the same issue.”
“They obviously are.”
“No.”
I leaned back.
“The money is about me realizing I was maintaining a relationship structure that did not include basic reciprocity.”
“That sounds like something from work.”
“Maybe.”
She sounded tired.
“We are your parents.”
“Yes.”
“And she is your granddaughter.”
Mom said nothing.
“That sentence goes both ways.”
I ended the call politely.
Tyler called three weeks after the party.
Sunday afternoon.
I expected something different from him.
Maybe because he had children.
Maybe because Sophie and his daughter were the same age.
Instead, he said, “Dad has cardiology in two weeks.”
I waited.
“Okay.”
“Mom says you removed yourself.”
“Yes.”
“Who is taking him?”
I looked out the window.
Sophie was on the balcony painting something.
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve always done it.”
“Yes.”
“You’re closer.”
“No.”
He paused.
“I’m forty-five minutes away.”
“So am I depending on traffic.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is?”
He sighed.
“Things are tight.”
I almost laughed.
For six years, I had never told him exactly what I paid.
So I told him.
Property taxes.
Insurance.
Phone plan.
Medication.
Transportation.
The total.
He stopped speaking.
“You were paying all that?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I didn’t want credit.”
“Then why bring it up now?”
“Because you called asking who would replace the work you didn’t know I was doing.”
Silence.
I continued.
“I needed one thing from this family.”
“What?”
“For Sophie to be treated like your kids.”
“She is.”
“No.”
He exhaled.
“You’re taking one night—”
“Tyler.”
I kept my voice calm.
“She asked me if there were any pictures of her in Mom and Dad’s house.”
He stopped.
I let that sit.