Part 10
Graham began to understand how thoroughly his mother had made herself necessary.
He also learned how many people believed her authority came directly from him.
Maria Santos, who had managed housekeeping for eleven years, asked to speak privately. She stood in the estate office twisting a ring on her finger.
“Mrs. Vale told us anything from Ms. Mercer went to the document room,” she said.
“For how long?”
“Since Ms. Mercer left.”
“Did you ever give a letter directly to my mother?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know. Maybe eight. Maybe more.”
“Did you think I knew?”
Maria looked uncomfortable.
“She said you did.”
“Did you ever see her destroy one?”
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
“The old driver saw her put an envelope in the fireplace. He doesn’t work here now.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
Maria’s expression held a trace of pity.
“People did not tell you things about your mother.”
Graham leaned back in the chair.
“Why?”
“Because she was usually speaking for you.”
The answer followed him for days.
Dr. Levin met with Nora by video, then again in person. She requested records and referred Nora to an independent evaluator in Vermont. She also met with Graham alone.
“You keep asking whether Nora is safe,” she said. “That is necessary. But Theo is asking a different question.”
“What question?”
“Whether either parent will tell him the truth when the truth makes them look bad.”
Graham looked toward the bookshelf in her office. A wooden puzzle sat crookedly between two stacks of journals.
“I told him I helped create the situation.”
“That was a start.”
“He barely speaks to me.”
“He still asks you to make breakfast.”
“I burn it.”
“That may be reassuring.”
Graham looked at her.
“Children notice incompetence. It proves you are not controlling everything.”
“I’m glad my failures are useful.”
Dr. Levin smiled faintly.
“The first call with Nora should be brief. Ten minutes. Theo can end it whenever he wants.”
“When?”
“When he asks.”
“What if he never asks?”
“Then we wait and continue giving him safe opportunities.”
Graham hated waiting. Waiting felt like passivity, and passivity now resembled guilt. Yet every attempt to move faster made Theo withdraw.
Three days later, a letter arrived from Nora.
It came in a plain white envelope addressed to Theo in the same forward-leaning handwriting. Graham found it with the morning mail.
He did not open it.
He carried it to Theo’s room and placed it on the desk.
Theo stared at the envelope.
“Did you read it?”
“No.”
“Did Grandma?”
“She’s in Manhattan.”
“She could have come back.”
“She didn’t.”
Theo touched the corner of the envelope with one finger.
“What does it say?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if it’s bad?”
“We can read it with Dr. Levin.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Then we put it somewhere safe.”
Theo picked up the letter.
He turned it over and examined the sealed flap.
“Can you open it?”
Graham used a letter opener while Theo watched. He removed the single sheet and handed it to him.
The boy read slowly.
Graham looked away, though he could see the page shaking.
After several minutes, Theo held it out.
“You read.”
The letter was short.
Dear Theo,
Your dad told me you found my last letter and that it was torn. I am sorry that happened.
I want to tell you something clearly. I did not leave because I stopped wanting you. I left because I was sick, and then I stayed away because I was ashamed and afraid. Those were adult problems. None of them were caused by you.
You do not have to answer this letter. You do not have to talk to me until you are ready. I will keep working with Dr. Levin and doing what the adults agree is safest for you.
I remember your rabbit. I hope the blue stitches are still holding.
Love,
Mom
Theo took the page back.
“She knows about the blue thread.”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell her?”
“I told her you still had the rabbit. She remembered fixing the ear.”
Theo inspected the seam.
“Why didn’t I remember?”
“You were three.”
He folded the letter in half, then unfolded it.
“Can I call her?”
Graham’s pulse quickened.
“Today?”
Theo nodded.
“We can ask Dr. Levin.”
“I don’t want her there.”
“She doesn’t have to be in the room, but we should tell her first.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to make another decision too fast just because I feel guilty.”
Theo looked at him.
The directness surprised them both.
“Okay,” the boy said.
The first call happened that evening.
Theo sat at the kitchen table with the phone propped against a bowl of oranges. Graham remained across the room, close enough to intervene but not close enough to appear part of the conversation.
When Nora’s face appeared, neither she nor Theo spoke.
She wore a blue sweater. Her hair was tucked behind one ear. A small kitchen was visible behind her, with two magnets on the refrigerator and a dish towel hanging from the oven handle.
“Hi,” Nora said.
Theo rubbed the rabbit’s ear.
“Hi.”
“I like your sweater.”
He looked down at the cream cable knit.
“Grandma bought it.”
Nora’s expression flickered.
“It looks warm.”
“It itches.”
“Then I take back the compliment.”
Theo almost smiled.
Nora did not fill the silence.
After several seconds, Theo lifted the rabbit toward the screen.
“Here’s the thread.”
Nora leaned closer.
“I see it.”
“It’s coming out.”
“It lasted longer than I expected.”
“Can you fix it?”
The question struck her visibly. She pressed her lips together before answering.
“I think so. If you want me to.”
Theo lowered the rabbit.
“Why didn’t you come home?”
Graham took one step toward the table, then stopped.
May you like
Nora looked directly at the screen.
“I was using medicine in a way that made me unsafe,” she said. “I went somewhere to get help. Then I made more mistakes, and I stayed away longer than I should have.”
