Chapter 14 - Lauren’s BirthdayThe investigation dominated everything.
Too much.
So on Saturday David turned off his phone.
Not airplane mode.
Off.
Hailey noticed.
“Is somebody dying?”
“No.”
“You turned your phone off.”
“I know.”
“You never turn your phone off.”
“I am evolving.”
She laughed.
It was the first full laugh he had heard from her in weeks.
They drove to a small botanical garden outside town.
Lauren had loved it.
Before cancer.
Before hospitals.
Before David learned how quickly a house could become too quiet.
Hailey carried a photograph.
Lauren at thirty-four.
Wind in her hair.
Holding a paper cup of terrible coffee.
They sat beneath the oak tree where Lauren had once forced David to take a family selfie after he complained about the heat.
“I stayed awake because I thought if I slept, her birthday would end,” Hailey said.
David looked at her.
“I know that’s stupid.”
“No.”
“It kind of is.”
“It makes emotional sense.”
She smiled.
“That is the most Dad sentence ever.”
David looked at the photograph.
“I knew it was her birthday.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
He took time before answering.
“Because I thought mentioning it would make you sad.”
“I was already sad.”
“I know that now.”
Hailey leaned against the bench.
“Sometimes I think I’m forgetting her voice.”
David’s throat tightened.
“I have recordings.”
Her head snapped toward him.
“What?”
“Voicemails.”
“You never told me.”
“I couldn’t listen.”
The words came out before he could soften them.
Hailey stared.
David continued.
“I saved them. I tried once after she died. I lasted about eight seconds.”
Hailey’s eyes filled.
“So you avoided them.”
“Yes.”
“And I avoided telling you I was sad.”
“Yes.”
They both smiled sadly.
“Great family strategy,” Hailey said.
“Very efficient.”
She laughed again.
That night they listened to one voicemail.
Lauren was annoyed because David had forgotten milk.
DAVID, IF YOU COME HOME WITHOUT MILK AGAIN, I AM PROMOTING HAILEY TO HEAD OF LOGISTICS.
Hailey burst into tears and laughter at the same time.
David did too.
For three years, he had treated grief like a locked room.
Mrs. Brennan had accidentally forced open the door.
That did not make the abuse meaningful.
It did not make it “happen for a reason.”
David rejected that kind of thinking.
Pain did not become good because something good happened afterward.
But people could still choose what to build from it.
Later, Hailey asked, “Would Mom want me to testify?”
David looked at her.
“I don’t know.”
“You knew her better.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
He thought of Lauren.
Stubborn.
Funny.
Unimpressed by rank.
Then he shook his head.
“I’m not going to use your mother to decide for you.”
Hailey blinked.
“You decide.”
She nodded.
The licensing hearing was scheduled for six weeks later.
Hailey had been invited to give testimony.
Not required.
Now she knew what she wanted.
“I’m doing it.”
David did not say be strong.
May you like
He said:
“I’ll be there.”
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