Chapter 33 - The Photograph in the Drawer
Caroline did not answer immediately when we told her.
She sat at our kitchen table with a cup of tea between her hands.
Outside, the boys were trying to persuade Charlie to participate in an obstacle course he regarded as beneath him.
“I see,” she said.
Lena’s shoulders tightened.
“We wanted you to hear it from us.”
“Thank you.”
I waited.
Caroline looked toward the window.
Then she asked, “What will they need to know about Elena?”
It was not the question I had expected.
“Everything we already tell them,” I said.
“That isn’t what I mean.”
She put down the cup.
“I know Lena is their mother. I’m not disputing that.”
Lena remained very still.
“But there are things only I remember. Things you don’t know. Things I keep thinking I’ll tell them when they’re older.”
“Then tell them,” Lena said.
Caroline looked at her.
“You don’t have to wait.”
Her face changed.
Not relief exactly.
Something closer to grief losing a place to hide.
“I’m afraid I’ll forget.”
The words came so quietly that I almost missed them.
She pressed her fingers against the table.
“Elena’s laugh. The way she used to knock twice on my bedroom door and come in before I answered. I can remember what happened. Sometimes I can’t hear her anymore.”
Lena moved her chair closer.
“Then we should write things down.”
Caroline covered her eyes.
I had seen her angry.
Defensive.
Ashamed.
I had rarely seen her frightened.
The following Sunday, she brought a small box.
Inside were photographs, birthday cards, an old recipe, and a postcard Elena had sent from a beach where the weather had apparently been terrible.
Nico read the message aloud.
Your sister is currently married to a man who believes checking the forecast is optional.
He looked at me.
“That sounds like you.”
“An unfair but durable assessment.”
Caroline laughed.
Then she began telling stories.
Elena losing a shoe in wet sand.
Elena singing the wrong words with complete confidence.
Elena making Caroline promise that the twins would learn to swim.
Noah listened closely.
Afterward, I found him standing in front of the photograph on the hallway shelf.
“Something on your mind?”
He nodded.
“If Mama adopts us, does Mommy Elena stop being our mother?”
“No.”
“People keep saying it doesn’t change anything.”
I crouched beside him.
“It changes something important. It doesn’t erase what came before.”
He studied the picture.
“Can we keep her name on our trees?”
“Always.”
That night, Lena helped the boys begin a memory book.
On the first page, Nico wrote Elena’s full name.
On the second, Noah wrote Lena’s.
Then he turned to a third page.
“What goes here?”
May you like
Lena handed him another pencil.
“Whatever you want to remember next.”
