Chương 9
They talked about Laura’s son applying to colleges.
Nobody discussed Cedar Glen.
After dinner Rachel washed dishes.
Eleanor dried.
Mark watched from the table.
Rachel caught him.
“Why are you staring?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Eleanor handed her a plate.
“He’s always stared.”
“Mom.”
“He did it as a child. Very unsettling.”
Rachel smiled.
Mark got up.
“I’m leaving.”
“You drove us,” Rachel said.
He sat back down.
Later, while Rachel was in the bathroom, Eleanor handed Mark a small folder.
“What’s this?”
“My new estate plan.”
His stomach tightened.
“Do I need to see it?”
“No.”
“Then why are you giving it to me?”
“Because there’s one thing you should know.”
He waited.
“The apartment sale proceeds remain in trust.”
“Okay.”
“You and Laura are still beneficiaries.”
He looked at her.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
“After what I did?”
Eleanor adjusted her cardigan.
“I’m not rewarding you.”
“I didn’t say—”
“You were about to.”
He smiled.
She looked toward the hallway.
“I changed the trustee.”
“To Laura?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“A corporate fiduciary.”
Mark blinked.
“You hired strangers?”
“I hired professionals.”
“That sounds expensive.”
“It is.”
He laughed.
Eleanor did not.
Then she did.
“I love you,” she said.
The words came so abruptly that he stopped smiling.
His mother was not a woman who said them often.
“I love you too.”
“That is not the same as trusting you with everything.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
“And trust can come back.”
He looked at her.
“Can?”
“If you stop trying to rush it.”
Rachel returned.
“What are you two whispering about?”
“My money,” Eleanor said.
Rachel immediately raised both hands.
“I want no part of that conversation.”
“Smartest person in the family,” Eleanor said.
Rachel looked pleased.
Mark objected.
Nobody listened.
Winter arrived.
Eleanor fell once.
Not badly.
She slipped while reaching for a towel after a shower and sat down harder than intended against the bathroom wall.
Her emergency pendant alerted the monitoring service.
Mark was called.
So was Laura.
Mark drove over.
He found Eleanor sitting on the closed toilet lid in a robe while two paramedics checked her blood pressure.
She was furious.
“I am not going to the hospital.”
One paramedic, a patient man named Luis, said, “Ma’am, nobody’s forcing you.”
“Good.”
“We’d still recommend getting checked.”
“I’m checked.”
Mark crouched beside her.
“Did you hit your head?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Your hip?”
“Fine.”
“Mom.”
“Mark.”
Luis looked between them.
“I can give you two a minute.”
Eleanor sighed.
“I’ll go to urgent care.”
Mark stood.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t sound victorious.”
“I’m not.”
“You look victorious.”
“That’s just my face.”
She looked at him.
Then she laughed.
At urgent care, X-rays showed no fracture.
The physician recommended physical therapy and another home-safety evaluation.
Eleanor agreed to both.
On the drive home she stared out the window.
“You’re thinking Cedar Glen,” she said.
Mark tightened his hands on the wheel.
“No.”
“Liar.”
He glanced at her.
“I thought about it.”
“So did I.”
He nearly missed the next light.
“What?”
“I said I thought about it.”
“Moving there?”
“Not Cedar Glen specifically.”
He waited.
Eleanor watched the buildings pass.
“I may need more help someday.”
“Yes.”
“That does not mean today.”
“No.”
“And if that day comes, I want to choose.”
“You should.”
She looked at him.
“Good.”
A year earlier, he would have turned the conversation into a plan before they reached the next intersection.
Now he drove.
At her building, he carried her coat but not her handbag.
He had learned the distinction.
Rachel began visiting Eleanor without Mark.
Not often.
Once every few weeks.
Sometimes they had coffee.
Sometimes Rachel helped with online forms because Eleanor still distrusted anything requiring two-factor authentication.
Their relationship did not become tender.
It became possible.
That was more durable.
One Saturday Rachel came home carrying a container of soup.
“Your mother says you look thin.”
Mark looked at his stomach.
“I’ve gained six pounds.”
“I told her.”
“What did she say?”
“That it’s probably inflammation.”
He laughed.
Rachel put the soup in the refrigerator.
Then she leaned against the counter.
“She asked if we’re happy.”
Mark looked at her.
“What did you say?”
“I said sometimes.”
He smiled.
“Good answer.”
“What would you say?”
He thought about it.
Their apartment was smaller than the old one. The upstairs neighbor dragged furniture at inexplicable hours. The kitchen faucet had begun leaking. Mark still hated the commute.
Rachel still left cabinet doors open.
He still avoided arguments until she called him on it.
They had started seeing a marriage counselor, something Mark had resisted for months because he disliked the idea of paying someone to watch him fail at conversation.
The counselor mostly asked questions and waited.
Mark hated the waiting.
It worked.
“Sometimes,” he said.
Rachel nodded.
“Me too.”
Six months after the storm, Mark drove Eleanor to the cardiologist again.
It was raining.
Not violently.
Just steady spring rain.
When they returned to her condominium, Eleanor asked him to stop in the covered parking area beneath the building.
Mark parked.
For a moment neither moved.
Rainwater ran down the windshield.
Eleanor looked through the glass.
“This reminds me of that day.”
Mark knew which day.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
He waited.
Eleanor unbuckled her seat belt.
“Rachel’s kick was impressive.”
Mark stared at her.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“You could’ve fallen.”
“I didn’t.”
“That’s not the point.”
“She has stronger legs than I expected.”
He laughed despite himself.
Eleanor smiled.
Then her face became quiet.
“I was frightened.”
The admission erased his smile.
“In the garage?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
She kept her eyes on the rain.
“Not because of Rachel.”
He knew.
“I thought I had become the kind of old woman people move around without asking.”
Mark looked down at his hands.
“I did that to you.”
“Yes.”
The word hurt.
He let it.
After a while he said, “Do you still think about it?”
“Sometimes.”
May you like
“Do you trust me?”
“With what?”
