LOGINNoah POVIlse stood in the hallway of the quiet house with one hand pressed flat against the wall. She was not crying.She was only very still, and her eyes were fixed on the small gray circle at the edge of Elias’s drawing. I took one step toward her, and the question was already in my mouth. I had waited months. I could hear exactly how it would sound, and I could hear how it would land on a woman who had just poured out her whole life over a cup of tea.I closed my mouth. Tracy’s hand found my sleeve.“Elias,” I said, and I was relieved at how ordinary my voice sounded. “That is a very good drawing. Would you let us hang it on our refrigerator?”His face lit up. “Really?”“Samuel has a whole wall of dragons, but there’s room.”“I’d like that.” He glanced at Ilse and lowered his voice. “Is it okay that I drew her? I didn’t mean to make you sad.”Ilse knelt in front of him, a little stiffly, and put both hands on his shoulders. “You didn’t, sweetheart. You drew what you feel. That is
Tracy POVNoah came home from the cemetery quieter than he had left. He ate dinner without saying much, helped Samuel build a block tower, and listened to the whole plot of the dragon book twice. It was only after Samuel was asleep that he sat down on the edge of our bed and told me about the butterscotch on the stone.“Every Friday,” he said. “For ten years. The groundskeeper told me she never missed.”“That’s a long time to keep a promise.”“I never went once.” He stared at his hands. “She went every week, and I went to the funeral and never came back.”I sat beside him and took one of his hands in both of mine. “You went today.”“That’s what you always say.”“It’s always true.” I leaned my head against his shoulder. “You can’t go back and visit her for ten years. But you can go next Friday, and the one after. Maybe we can bring Samuel.”He was quiet for a long moment. Then he let out a breath, and I felt the weight in his shoulders ease. He turned and kissed my forehead, and then m
Noah POVOn Monday morning, Samuel announced that he needed a haircut. “A dragon one.”“What does a dragon haircut look like?” I asked.“Spiky. But not too spiky. Elias is going to see me on Saturday, and I want to look like I’ve been somewhere.”“You’ve been to school.”“Somewhere important.”Tracy hid her smile behind her coffee cup and told me I should take him, because she had a room full of recorders to survive. So after school I walked Samuel two blocks to a narrow barbershop with a red and white pole and a handwritten sign in the window that said Joe’s. Cash only. No opinions. Inside were three leather chairs and a man in his seventies with a comb tucked behind each ear.I had not been in a place like that since I was a boy. My own barber came to the office every second Thursday with a case of scissors and a quiet voice. Joe looked at my tie and asked, “You lost?”“We’re here for a haircut. A dragon one.”He lifted Samuel onto a board laid across the arms of the chair and studi
Tracy POVOn Wednesday evening, Noah told me to wear comfortable shoes and not to ask questions. I assumed it meant a restaurant with candles and a waiter who would describe the bread. I was dressed for it, in my good green dress, when he handed me a laundry basket full of Samuel’s sheets and led me out the door.“I’m confused,” I said, in the elevator.“That’s the idea.”Marisol had waved us off from the sofa with Samuel asleep against her side, looking very pleased with herself, so she was clearly in on it. We drove for ten minutes and stopped in front of a small, brightly lit laundromat on Ninth Street. A hand-lettered sign in the window said OPEN LATE. Inside, a dozen washers hummed in a long row, and the air smelled of warm cotton and fabric softener.I stopped in the doorway. My throat went tight.“Why here?” I asked.Noah set the basket on a folding table. “You told me about the laundromat under your apartment. You said it was the only warm place in the building at three in the
Noah POVOn Saturday morning, Marisol stood in our hallway with her coat buttoned wrong, checking her handbag for the fourth time. She had packed the dented blue tin, a clean handkerchief, a second clean handkerchief, and a full packet of tissues. Tracy took the bag out of her hands, set it on the hall table, and fixed the buttons one at a time.“You look lovely,” Tracy said.“I look like a woman who has packed for a flood.”“That’s also true.”Marisol laughed, and some of the stiffness left her shoulders. I was holding the car keys, and I felt the old habit rise in me, the one that wanted to arrange everything. A driver. A guard at the gate. A quiet table somewhere afterward. I held it for a moment, then put it down.“Would you like to walk in beside us,” I asked, “or ten steps behind?”She thought about it very seriously. “Beside you,” she said. “I think I’d like to be seen arriving.”“Then that’s what we’ll do.”Daniel was waiting at the park entrance in a ranger’s hat, holding a c
Tracy POVI told Marisol on Sunday morning, in the kitchen, before the rest of the house was awake. She was at the stove stirring oatmeal, and I stood beside her with my hands wrapped around a mug, trying to find the right words. I had rehearsed several. They all disappeared.“The woman at the park wants you to come on Saturday,” I said. “She asked for you by name. She said you’ve waited as long as she has.”Marisol’s spoon stopped moving. She looked into the pot for a long moment, and then she turned the burner down very low.“Did she say why?”“No. I wanted you to know you can say no. You don’t owe her anything, and you don’t owe us anything either.”“That’s kind of you.” She set the spoon on the counter. “But I’m not afraid of her, Tracy. I’m only surprised that I’m not more surprised.”Noah came in just then with his hair still damp from the shower, and I saw his face slide into planning mode before he had taken three steps. He had caught the end of the sentence. “I’ll arrange a c







