Yes, that happened. But many years ago. Not-James smiles. And it wasn’t a month. Dad relented, as he always did. I think I had to stay inside for three days. You were furious.
He was always able to charm his way out of anything. Just like you.
Not-James sighs. Yes, just like me. Like son, like father.
James?
Never mind, he says. He reaches over and takes my hand, holds it against his cheek.
These hands, he says. You know, Dad used to say, All our lives are in your mother’s hands. Be careful of them. I didn’t understand what he meant. I’m still not quite sure, completely. But something about how you were the center. You were it.
He takes my hand from his cheek, clasps it between both of his.
He was very proud of you, you know. Whatever else may have happened. When I was small, and you were late coming home from the hospital, he used to take me into your office. He’d show me all your diplomas and awards. These are the credentials of a real woman, he’d say. It scared the hell out of me. Small wonder I haven’t married.
You’re nobody’s fool.
No. Whatever I am, I’m not that.
He is fading fast into the shadows. I cannot see his face anymore at all. But his hand is warm and substantial. I grasp it and hold on.
Do me a favor, he says.
What’s that?
Talk to me. Tell me about what life is like for you right now.
James, what kind of game is this?
Yes, call it a game. Just tell me about your life. A day in the life. What you did yesterday, today, what you’ll do tomorrow. Even the boring stuff.
A silly game.
Humor me. You know how it is. You think you know someone, you take things for granted, you lose touch. So just talk to me.
What is there to tell? You know it all.
Pretend I don’t. Pretend I’m a stranger. Let’s start with the basics. How old are you?
Forty-five. Forty-six? At my age you don’t count so carefully anymore.
Married, of course.
To you.
Right. And how are the children these days?
Well, I already told you about Mark.
The charming, intelligent, delightful one. Yes.
My daughter is another matter altogether. She was a gregarious, outgoing child. But she’s closed down now. They say girls do. And that you get them back, eventually. But right now we’re in the middle of the dark years.
It’s a mother-daughter thing.
I suspect so.
I can promise you that it does work out.
You have psychic powers?
Something like that.
Well, that would be something to look forward to.
You say that so mournfully. Yet you have a very rich, very full life.
The forties are a hard decade for women. I’d be the first to admit it. Lost hair, lost bone density, lost fertility. The last gasp of a dying creature. I’m looking forward to getting on the other side. A rebirth.
That sounds like something Amanda would say.
It does, doesn’t it? Well, we’re close. You pick things up.
You were a formidable pair. When I was small, I thought all women were like you and Amanda. God help anyone who didn’t treat me the way you thought I should be treated! Avenging angels.
She is one of a kind.
She was, indeed. He pauses. Did the detective ask about her?
What detective?
