I looked at the casket.
“And real is enough.”
That was all.
After burial, I stood until everyone left.
The coffin was not empty.
I knew.
I did not need to watch dirt.
I walked away.
Michael left me one thing in his will besides a small collection of watches I did not want.
A note.
It read:
D,
You spent half our lives trying to protect me after spending the other half annoying me.
You did okay.
Do not make Nora your new project.
Do not turn my death into another family lesson.
And please, for the love of God, stop talking about walls.
—M
Below:
P.S. The pink lamp is hideous.
I framed that.
Not the letter.
The P.S.
It sits in the reading room now.
Lily laughed when she saw.
“He hated that lamp.”
“Yes.”
“Why keep?”
“Because he hated it.”
Grief can be childish.
That is allowed.
Nora remained family.
Not because Michael instructed.
Because she already was.
She eventually moved to North Carolina to be near her sister.
We called.
Visited.
She never remarried.
Not a tragedy.
She said once:
“I had one good husband.”
“I am not collecting.”
Fair.
At seventy-six, Vanessa and I decided to sell the house.
That shocked Lily more than the key.
“You can’t.”
I laughed.
“Apparently I can.”
“The reading room.”
“It comes with house.”
“But—”
“What?”
She looked around.
“This is our house.”
“Yes.”
“You’re selling it?”
“We are old.”
“Speak for yourself,” Vanessa said.
“You fell carrying laundry last week.”
“I tripped.”
“On a flat floor.”
She glared.
Lily sat.
“What about Mom’s height marks?”
We had pencil lines inside pantry door.
“What about the treehouse?”
“What about Grandpa Harrison’s desk?”
“What about—”
I raised hand.
“Lily.”
She stopped.
“Objects.”
She looked away.
Not enough.
I softened.
“This house holds memories.”
“Yes.”
“It also holds stairs.”
She laughed reluctantly.
“We want smaller.”
“Closer to you.”
That got her.
“You want closer?”
“Yes.”
She became suspicious.
“How close?”
“Not same street.”
“Good.”
Vanessa said:
“We found a one-story house twenty minutes away.”
“You already found one?”
Lily looked betrayed.
“Apparently we’re terrible communicators again.”
“Your father wanted to tell you after inspection.”
I looked at Vanessa.
“Whose choice are you protecting?”
She smiled sweetly.
“Yours.”
Lily pointed.
“This family learned nothing.”
We sold.
Before listing, the realtor walked through.