Sometimes he asked for advice.
Sometimes he called only to complain about cafeteria food.
The house was quieter, but it no longer felt threatened.
We placed Mom’s jewelry box on the mantel in the living room.
The pearl earrings remained inside.
The legal documents stayed with Helen, safely filed where no one could hide them again.
On Lucas’s nineteenth birthday, he came home and found a cake waiting on the same dining table where our relatives had tried to divide us.
Before blowing out the candles, he handed me an envelope.
Inside was a card.
On the front, he had written one word.
Mom.
This time, he signed his name.
