In fact, he had endangered it before either child knew what it was. Their ability to build something healthy afterward belonged to them. The question of Laura remained the deepest wound between David and Megan. In February of her sophomore year, Megan asked to see every photograph from the year she was born.
David brought down storage boxes from the attic. They sat on the floor sorting through prints: Laura pregnant beside a Christmas tree, David assembling a crib, Margaret holding newborn Megan, exhausted and radiant. Megan studied the timeline with an almost investigative concentration. “This is after you slept with Sarah,” she said, holding up a photo of David kissing Laura’s pregnant stomach.
“Yes.” “You look happy.” “I was.” Megan stared at him.
“How?” David thought before answering. “Because people can be happy and dishonest at the same time. That is part of what makes dishonesty dangerous.”
She looked back at the photo. “I used to think cheaters were miserable in their marriages.” “Some are. Some are not.”
“So you had no excuse.” “No.” Megan nodded as if she had needed that exact answer. They found one photograph taken at the hospital the day Megan was born.
David stood beside Laura’s bed holding the baby, tears visible on his face. Megan stared at it for a long time. “Were you thinking about Sarah’s pregnancy then?” David closed his eyes.