CHAPTER 5: A Fragile Beginning

The following morning, Eric awoke with a heavy heart but a clearer sense of purpose. The notebook sat open on the table, its pages scattered with his late-night scribbles. Ideas, plans, and half-formed thoughts littered the paper. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start.

He stared at the clock. David would be leaving for school soon. This was his chance to try again, even if it meant facing more rejection.

David shuffled into the kitchen, his hair messy and his expression groggy. He didn't acknowledge Eric as he grabbed a bowl from the cabinet.

"Good morning," Eric said, forcing a smile.

David grunted in response, pouring cereal into the bowl and sitting down at the far end of the table.

Eric hesitated. "I saw your math test yesterday. I was thinking... if you need help, I could—"

David slammed his spoon into the bowl, milk splashing onto the table. "I don't need your help."

Eric took a deep breath, refusing to let the frustration overwhelm him. "I'm not trying to overstep. I just want to be here for you, David."

David glared at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and sadness. "You can't just show up now and pretend everything's okay. It doesn't work like that."

"I know," Eric admitted. "But I'm not pretending. I'm trying to fix things. I know it's going to take time."

David scoffed. "You really think you can fix this? Fix us? Maybe you should've thought about that before you ruined everything."

The words cut deep, but Eric nodded slowly. "You're right. I can't change the past. But I can try to be better now. That's all I can do."

David didn't respond. He finished his cereal in silence, shoved his chair back, and grabbed his bag.

"I'll drive you to school," Eric offered.

David froze for a moment, then shook his head. "I'll walk."

Before Eric could protest, David was out the door, leaving Eric alone once again.

Later that day, Eric decided to take a walk. The small, familiar neighborhood felt strangely foreign to him now, as if he didn't belong here anymore.

As he passed the local coffee shop, a voice called out to him.

"Eric Dawson?"

He turned to see Clara Mitchell, a young woman with sharp eyes and an air of quiet confidence. She was holding a to-go cup and a stack of papers.

"Yes?" Eric replied cautiously.

"I'm Clara Mitchell. We spoke on the phone a while back—about Tim's case."

Eric's stomach tightened. He vaguely remembered the call, though he'd been too consumed by guilt and self-pity at the time to properly engage.

Clara offered a small smile. "I'm working with Marcia Reynolds. She mentioned you've been ignoring her letters."

Eric flushed, glancing away. "I read the last one."

"And?" Clara pressed.

Eric hesitated. "I don't know what she wants from me. What I can do to... to fix anything."

Clara stepped closer, her expression softening. "Marcia doesn't want you to fix the past. She wants you to take responsibility. There's a difference."

Her words echoed what Helen had said the day before, and Eric felt the weight of them settle on his shoulders.

"I've been trying," he said weakly.

"Then try harder," Clara said firmly. "If you're serious about making amends, you need to start by listening to the people you've hurt."

Eric swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond.

Clara handed him a business card. "If you ever decide to stop running from this, call me. I can help."

She turned and walked away, leaving Eric standing on the sidewalk, the card clenched tightly in his hand.

That night, Eric sat at the table once again, staring at the notebook. Clara's words and Marcia's letter swirled in his mind. Taking responsibility wasn't just about apologizing; it was about taking action.

He picked up his phone and dialed a number he hadn't called in months.

"Hello?" Marcia's voice was hesitant, guarded.

"Marcia, it's Eric," he said, his voice trembling. "I... I read your letter. And I want to talk. If you'll let me."

There was a long pause, and for a moment, Eric thought she might hang up.

"Tomorrow," she said finally. "Meet me at the community center at 2 p.m."

"I'll be there," Eric promised.

As he hung up, a strange mix of fear and determination coursed through him. It was only a small step, but it felt monumental.