quot;

    HedrebreathanddrummedhisfingersoeeriherestoftheDaysuoodthesignal.Quietallthewayhome.ThatnightIcouldhearthemtalking,makeouttheebbandflowofaloudaionalfrontation,butIhadlostallabilitytoeavesdropfromadistanawhileIdheara"goddam"or"bloody"explodefromhim,andshemayhavecried—Isupposeshedid—butthatsit.Nearmidnight,hestormedoutofthehouse,andthesoundofthecarpullingawayleftadesolatiodownstairstoseeifMomhadsurvivedtheordealandfoundhercalmlysittingi,ashoeboxopenoablebeforeher.

    "Henry,itslate."Shetiedaribbonaroundabundleoflettersainthebox."YourfatherusedtowriteonceaweekwhilehewasoverinNorthAfrica."Ikhestorybyheart,butsheunwounditagain.Pregnant,withahusbandoverseasatwar,allofeenatthetime,shelivedwithhisparents.ShewasstillalohetimeofHenrysbirth,andIwasnowalmostasoldasshehadbeenthroughthewholeordeal.tingmylifeasahobgoblin,Iwasoldenoughtobehergrandfather.Untamedagehadcreptintoherheart.

    "Youthinklifeseasywhenyoureyoung,andtakealmostanythingbecauseyouremotionsruns.Whenyoureup,youreiars,andwhenyouredown,youreatthebottomofthewell.ButalthoughIvegrownold—"

    Shewasthirty-fivebymycalculations.

    "ThatdoesntmeanIvefottenwhatitsliketobeyoung.Ofcourse,itsyourlifetodowithwhatyouchoose.Ihadhighhopesforyouasapianist,Henry,butyoubewhateveryouwish.Ifitsnotinyourheart,Iuand."

    "Wouldyoulikeacupoftea,Mom?"

    "Thatwouldbegrand."

    Twoweekslater,duriernoonbeforeChristmas,OscarLoveand