Chương 8
“No, literally.”
Her voice dropped.
“There’s a tiny key on his old key ring, and Josh thinks it fits.”
“So get it.”
“Mom took the ring.”
That pulled me away from the counter.
“Why?”
“She says Dad is confused and we need to stop indulging him.”
“Indulging him by opening a box with my name on it?”
“I know how it sounds.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
“I do.”
There was a pause.
Then Lily said, “Josh thinks we should force it.”
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because if Dad locked it and labeled it, I want to know what’s inside without somebody tearing half of it up.”
“It’s metal.”
“He’s Josh.”
“That’s fair.”
I heard someone enter the stairwell.
Lily lowered her voice even further.
“I have to go.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Take the box somewhere Mom can’t get it.”
She was quiet.
“Conor, that’s her house.”
“It’s my name on the lid.”
“I know.”
“I’m not asking you to steal it.”
“That is almost exactly what you’re asking.”
I closed my eyes.
“Then don’t.”
Another pause.
“I’ll call you.”
She hung up.
Claire came home twenty minutes later and found me still standing near the counter.
She put her bag down.
“You haven’t moved.”
“I’ve moved.”
“The cinnamon-roll plate is still there.”
“I went to the bathroom.”
“Congratulations.”
I showed her the photograph.
She studied it without touching my phone.
“That’s his handwriting?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think is in it?”
“I have no idea.”
“Money?”
“No.”
“Documents?”
“Maybe.”
“Human remains?”
I stared at her.
“Too soon?”
“By several decades.”
She took off her coat.
“You’re going.”
It wasn’t a question.
“I haven’t decided.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“I believe you.”
“You said that like you don’t.”
“I said two words.”
“You have an extremely judgmental two-word delivery.”
Claire walked to the refrigerator.
“I’m making eggs.”
“It’s one in the afternoon.”
“Eggs are anarchists.”
I sat at the table while she cooked.
My phone remained beside my hand.
Every few minutes, the screen lit with some useless notification.
Work chat.
A package update.
A photography account I followed posting a new image.
Nothing from Lily.
Claire put a plate in front of me.
“You need to eat.”
“You’re becoming my mother.”
She froze.
“That came out wrong.”
“Very.”
“I’m sorry.”
She sat across from me.
“Your actual mother sounds exhausting.”
“She wasn’t always.”
That surprised both of us.
Claire waited.
I picked at the eggs.
“When I was little, she used to leave notes in my lunch.”
“What kind?”
“Bad jokes.”
“Like?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You remember everything.”
“I remember that they were bad.”
I stared at my fork.
“She came to every parent-teacher conference.”
“That counts.”
“She also let him say whatever he wanted.”
“That counts too.”
I pushed the eggs around.
“People would be easier if they were only one thing.”
“Villains have terrible scheduling.”
I smiled despite myself.
At two thirty, Lily called.
Her voice sounded breathless.
“I have the key.”
“How?”
“Dad gave it to me.”
“He’s awake?”
“Sort of.”
“What does that mean?”
“He comes in and out.”
I stood.
“Did he say anything?”
“He kept trying.”
“What?”
“I couldn’t understand.”
“Lily.”
“I’m telling you.”
Her voice sharpened.
“He can barely form words right now.”
I leaned against the table.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
She breathed into the phone.
“Josh brought the box to the hospital.”
“Why?”
“Because he has no sense.”
“That tracks.”
“Mom lost it.”
“Also tracks.”
“Conor.”
“What?”
“Dad saw the box.”
Something in her tone changed the room around me.
“And?”
“He started crying.”
I stopped speaking.
Claire turned from the sink.
Lily continued.
“Not dramatic crying.”
“Just tears.”
“He kept pointing at it and then at his chest.”
“Did he want you to open it?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“He nodded when I held up the key.”
“Then open it.”
“Mom won’t let me.”
I laughed once.
“What exactly is she going to do?”
“She’s standing outside the room right now telling Josh we need to put it back.”
“Why does she care so much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No.”
“You have a theory.”
Lily hesitated.
That was enough.
“What?”
“I think she knows what’s inside.”
The kitchen seemed suddenly too quiet.
Claire sat down.
“What did she say?”
“When Josh brought it in, she said, ‘That’s private.’”
“So?”
“She didn’t ask what it was.”
I gripped the edge of the table.
“She knew.”
“I think so.”
“What else?”
“Then she said Dad wasn’t in his right mind.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“She told Josh the box had nothing to do with you.”
I looked again at the photograph.
My name covered half the lid.
“That’s impressive.”
“I know.”
“Did Josh ask how she knew?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She told him to stop making everything worse.”
I sat.
Lily whispered, “I think you should come.”
I hated how quickly the words affected me.
Not because Dad was dying.
Not only because of that.
Because suddenly there was evidence that the story I had been told about myself might have contained something nobody wanted me to see.
Claire watched my face.
I said, “Put the box somewhere secure.”
“Where?”
“Ask the nurses if they have patient valuables storage.”
“I don’t think they’ll store a random box.”
“Then keep it with you.”
“Mom is going to lose her mind.”
“She’ll survive.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
Lily went silent.
I softened my voice.
“Don’t fight her.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“Just don’t give her the box.”
“What about Josh?”
“Do you trust him?”
“That depends on the hour.”
“Helpful.”
“He’s being weird.”
“Weirder than usual?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He suddenly wants to know what’s inside too.”
That bothered me.
“Why suddenly?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ask him.”
“He’ll lie if he thinks I suspect something.”
“Since when are you good at this?”
“I have children.”
“Fair.”
A nurse spoke somewhere near her.
Lily said, “I have to go.”
“Text me if anything changes.”
“You’re coming, aren’t you?”
May you like
I didn’t answer.
She didn’t ask twice.
