“That’s probably a good plan.”
Frank nodded.
“And maybe,” he added, “you could explain a few things to me instead.”
I stood and offered him my hand.
“I’d be happy to.”
Frank shook it firmly. And for the first time since Sunday night, the weight of that awkward dinner felt like it had finally begun to lift.
A week later, Daniel and I drove back to his parents’ house. The same street, the same flag in the yard, the same white house at the end of the block, but the feeling in the car was completely different. Daniel glanced at me as he turned into the driveway.
“You sure you want to do this again?”
I smiled.
“Daniel, I’ve deployed to conflict zones. I think I can survive another Sunday dinner.”
He laughed softly.
“That’s not exactly the same thing.”
“No,” I said, “this one matters more.”
He raised an eyebrow at that.
“More?”
“Family always does.”
Daniel nodded slowly and turned off the engine. For a moment, we sat there quietly. Then he reached over and squeezed my hand.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“For giving my dad another chance.”
I looked at the Marine Corps flag moving gently in the breeze.
“Everyone deserves one.”
Frank opened the door again, but this time he didn’t stand stiffly in the doorway studying me. Instead, he stepped forward immediately.
“Elaine,” he said, and before I could even respond, he extended his hand.
Not the quick handshake from the first dinner. This one was steady. Respectful.
“Good to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you too, Frank.”
Daniel stepped past us into the house. Margaret appeared in the hallway just like before, though this time she was already smiling.
“Well,” she said warmly, “this looks much more promising than last Sunday.”
Frank gave a quiet grunt.
“Let’s not relive that too many times.”
Margaret laughed.
“I plan to bring it up for at least the next ten years.”
We all moved into the dining room again. The table looked familiar. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans. Frank noticed me glancing at the food.
“Margaret insisted on the same meal,” he said.
“Why?” Daniel asked.
Margaret set down a bowl of cornbread.
“Because if we’re going to rewrite the memory, we might as well start from the same place.”
I smiled.
“That’s a thoughtful strategy.”
Frank pulled out my chair before sitting down himself. A small gesture, but an intentional one. Dinner began quietly at first. Margaret asked about my week on base. Daniel talked about a project he was finishing. Frank mostly listened. Halfway through the meal, he finally cleared his throat.
“Before we go any further,” he said.
Daniel looked up. Margaret paused. Frank looked directly at me.
“I’d like to say something.”
