Chapter 32 - The Question She Never Asked
After the children were asleep, Lena washed a clean cup.
I watched her rinse it, dry it, and place it in the cupboard.
Then she reached for another.
“Lena.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
She set the cup down.
I stood on the other side of the kitchen, suddenly unsure whether moving closer would help.
“Have you wanted to talk about this?”
“For years.”
The answer landed without force.
That made it worse.
“Why didn’t you?”
She looked at me.
“I was waiting for you.”
I leaned against the counter.
There were questions I had learned to ask her.
What do you want to study?
What do you need from me?
How can we make the schedule work?
Apparently, I had still managed to miss one large enough to live between us for most of our marriage.
“I thought you would tell me if you wanted to.”
“I thought you would ask if you were ready.”
“Ready for what?”
She glanced toward the hallway.
“To let this part of their lives change too.”
I shook my head.
“You thought I wouldn’t want it?”
“I thought you might need time.”
“All these years?”
Her mouth trembled.
“At first, there was so much happening. Then they were happy. We were happy. I didn’t want to turn something that already felt certain into a question somebody could say no to.”
I crossed the kitchen.
This time, she let me take her hands.
“I would never have said no because of Elena.”
“You don’t know what you would have felt seven years ago.”
She was right.
Seven years ago, I had still confused grief with obligation. There had been days when moving a photograph felt like betrayal.
“I should have asked.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “You should have.”
I nodded.
The silence afterward was painful.
It was also useful.
She did not have to make my failure smaller before we could talk about hers.
Finally, she said, “I wasn’t sure I was allowed to want it.”
“Why?”
“Because they already called me Mama. Because they trusted me. Because asking for something more sounded ungrateful.”
I held her hands more carefully.
“You’re allowed to want something.”
“I know that now.”
Her eyes moved toward the desk where her course certificate stood against the wall, waiting for us to hang it.
Perhaps she had learned more than the syllabus promised.
The following morning, I called Rebecca.
She listened without interrupting.
Then she recommended a family lawyer who could explain our options and speak with Lena directly.
“This should be something you understand together,” she said.
That evening, I told the boys we were going to ask questions about adoption.
Nico immediately asked whether there would be an examination.
“No.”
“For you or for us?”
“We’ll find out what’s involved.”
Noah looked at Lena.
“Do you want to?”
She knelt beside his chair.
“Yes.”
He studied her face.
May you like
Then he threw both arms around her neck.
“I was hoping,” he whispered.
