He starts toward the door that leads to the house. There’s a war on the other side of the planet that I have no say in. There’s one much closer that I do.

“Dad?”

He stops, probably as unaccustomed to hearing that word come through my lips as I am to saying it.

“Thank you. I mean it. Really.”

He quietly appraises me. It’s a familiar gesture. For an instant I’m reminded of being twelve and a goddamn goofball because I’ve just blown a crucial point in a father-and-son doubles match.

But then he says, “You can quit starving yourself. You won’t need to worry about that physical now.”

I blink. He’s done despicable things, but he also taught me to ski. Taught me to play tennis. Provided for his family. Built a fallout shelter when he thought it was crucial. Gave me a job. Probably taught me the meaning of work. Saved my butt just when it looked like my ass was grass.

There’s another picture in a photo album somewhere of him and me dressed in matching dungarees and gray sweatshirts. I must be five years old. We’re sitting on the front step, and his hand is on my shoulder. He’s smiling, but I have a bigger smile.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do?” I ask. I can’t bring myself to say “about Antonia,” but he knows what I’m talking about.

He shakes his head.

“Well, whatever you decide . . .” I begin. “I want you to know that it’ll be okay with me.”

His forehead creases. He pulls his lips in. His eyes become glittery.

He goes inside.

Saturday, August 23

8/18/69

Dear Lucas,

Thank you for your letter. Thank you for being so understanding and not being angry. I’ve always known that you’re an amazing person. Once again you’ve proved it.

In a way, you’ve made things harder for me. It would have been easier if you had gotten mad about Samuel. Instead you reminded me of all the good times we had last year. And of course you were right. We did have lots more good than bad.

I’m so confused. I was unsure before, and I’m even more unsure now. Maybe you’re right about me using Samuel as a way to let you know how serious I am about getting you to change. I don’t know. I hate the idea of using anyone, so it could be true and I just don’t want to admit it.