Jonah’s eyes opened.
He looked at me, horrified.
“I didn’t,” he said quickly. “Mom, I never told you that.”
“I know.”
On the message Randall coughed. It took several seconds before he could continue.
“She will choose me over herself. She always has, in a thousand little ways, and she’ll call it love. Maybe it is. But this time I need you to make her selfish.”
Jonah sat down hard on a cardboard box.
Randall’s recorded voice softened. “You’re going to hate me for this. I’m sorry. I love you. I love Elise. I love your mother more than I have words left for.”
The voicemail ended.
Jonah stared at the phone until the screen dimmed.
“I never heard that,” he said.
Nobody answered.
“I could’ve listened.” His voice began to fracture. “It sat there for months.”
“Jonah,” Elise said.
“No.” He stood so quickly the box beneath him tipped over. Papers spilled onto the concrete, receipts and envelopes sliding beneath the folding table. “Everybody in this family keeps saying what they could have done. You could’ve told Mom about the wristband. Wade could’ve broken his promise. Mom could’ve gone after Dad. Fine. I could’ve pressed one button.”
