Chapter 3

Edgar came home less than once a year. When Grandma called him, he'd either hang up before they'd exchanged so much as three sentences or just not pick up at all.

I was still young back then, so I couldn't understand why Grandma refused to place the receiver back onto the cradle when the other end had long since become the beep of the disconnected line.

It was as if she thought that if she just waited a little longer, the busy signal would turn back into Edgar's voice.

The first time I saw Edgar after I was old enough to remember was five years later, in the depths of a cold winter.

The snow was coming down heavily outside. Edgar pushed the door open, bringing in a gust of cold air with him.

His hands were full of bags, but he freed one up to ruffle my hair.

"Wow, you've grown so much taller," he said with a grin.

I felt a strange familiarity toward him. It was a feeling that made me want to run away, yet at the same time, it instinctively drew me toward him.

I burst into a loud wail and cried out helplessly for Grandma.

She rushed out of the kitchen, and when she saw Edgar, she froze too.

Edgar opened his arms and said with a smile, "Mom, I'm back."

Grandma nodded and quickly went to whip up something for Edgar to eat.

Edgar stopped her and said, "Don't bother. I bought takeout. Besides, there's something I need to tell you."

Dinner was well underway when Edgar, choosing his moment, gently put down his fork.

"Mom, I'm getting married at the end of this year."

Grandma was taken aback. "Why so sudden? I haven't even met your fiancee yet."

Edgar let out a couple of awkward laughs. "There's no need to meet her specially, because it's Dawn I'm marrying—Claude's mother. She came back to find me a while ago.

"She's changed a lot, and she also swore to me that she won't do it again. I've given it a lot of thought, and I still feel Claude shouldn't be without his mother."

Back then, I had no idea what the word "mother" even meant.

In the end, Grandma said nothing at all.

In the middle of the night, Grandma was taking me to the bathroom when we passed Edgar's room and heard the low, indistinct sound of him on the phone.

The next second, Grandma suddenly shoved the bedroom door open and said sharply, "What do you mean? She never cut ties with that other man at all?"

Edgar reflexively hung up the phone and hurried to deny it. "No, Mom. You heard wrong."

Grandma said nothing. Instead, she just stared at the bruises trailing out from beneath Edgar's short sleeves.

She strode over and, despite Edgar's attempts to stop her, lifted his shirt. Dense scars and bruises crawled over his body.

Grandma's hand trembled uncontrollably.

"Did Dawn and her family do this to you?"

"No, I fell down myself."

Even a child like me could tell those were marks from a beating.

Grandma saw the redness around Edgar's eyes and shook all over.

"Edgar, I don't approve of this marriage!"

Edgar gritted his teeth and suddenly yelled back, "What right do you have to tell me what to do? If it weren't for you, Dawn and her family wouldn't even look down on me!"

He suddenly pointed at me. "Do you know what she calls Claude? A dead weight! She doesn't even want this brat!"

"So what if you're not with her? I can take care of you for the rest of my life!" Grandma shouted, tears streaming down her face.

Edgar was silent for a moment. Then, he said quietly, "But I want to be with her. I don't want to spend my whole life with you."

With that, he turned and ran off into the night.

I hid behind Grandma, my whole body shaking as I gripped her sleeve.

"Grandma, am I a dead weight? Is it because of me that Daddy isn't happy?"

Grandma opened her mouth, but not a single word came out.

After a long moment, she knelt on the floor and pulled me into her arms, trembling.

"You're not a dead weight. You are my precious grandson."

From then on, Grandma and Edgar seemed locked in a quiet standoff. There was no more conversation between them, and I became the only go-between.

Until one day, when Grandma was tidying up, she noticed that the family's lockbox of important papers was missing.