Chapter 24 - A Chair at the Table
The next Christmas, Caleb was twelve.
We hosted dinner at my house.
Julian.
Sarah.
Caleb.
Two friends.
My sister? no established. Better my close friends and neighbors.
No formal seating.
Still, Caleb insisted on place cards.
“Why?”
“Because I like knowing where everyone sits.”
I understood.
His card was at center.
Not head.
Not floor.
Just one chair among others.
Dinner started.
Caleb served himself too much mashed potato.
Julian said:
“You’re not eating all that.”
Caleb:
“Watch me.”
He did not.
Normal.
After dessert, Julian asked to speak privately.
“I have something for Caleb.”
“What?”
“The original Northstar report.”
I stared.
“Why would he need?”
“He doesn’t.”
“Then?”
“I want him to decide whether destroy when older.”
We discussed therapist.
At twelve, Caleb already knew paternity history broadly.
He said:
“I don’t want it.”
“What should we do?”
“Keep legal copy. Shred personal.”
Good.
We shredded the original? Better legal archive requires original maybe no. We can keep certified legal archive with counsel and shred duplicate. Let's say original had been court exhibit and preserved; Julian held copy marked do not file. That damaging annotated copy. Caleb decided legal archive keep, family copy destroyed after case final? Could destroy personal duplicate, certified court record remains.
He watched shredded paper fall.
No ceremony.
Then asked:
“Can we eat pie?”
Yes.
That night, after guests left, he sat at kitchen table.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Do you ever think about the floor?”
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
“Does it scare you?”
“Not really.”
“What does it do?”
“Makes me mad.”
“Okay.”
“Sometimes I think I should’ve thrown food at Grandma.”
I laughed.
“Probably good you didn’t.”
“Maybe.”
Then he looked at chair.
“I remember thinking chairs were for real Hartwells.”
My throat tightened.
“What do you think now?”
“They’re furniture.”
May you like
I laughed.
Exactly.
