Chapter 5 - Nora Told Me What My Father Did After He Left
Nora was discharged two days later.
Not by me.
I had made that clear early.
I was too entangled.
Another physician handled her care.
I handled Lily.
Mostly because Lily had decided that being a doctor meant I controlled pudding.
“I don’t.”
“You have a badge.”
“That is not how pudding works.”
“It should be.”
Thomas sat in the corner trying not to laugh.
Lily had accepted our reunion more quickly than we had.
To her, Mr. Tom and Dr. Claire were simply adults making everything unnecessarily complicated.
She was correct.
While Lily packed Nora’s bag, Nora said:
“You still think he vanished.”
I looked at her.
“I’m adjusting the vocabulary.”
Thomas rolled his eyes.
I saw it.
“Do that again.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You made a face.”
Nora smiled.
“Same family.”
I ignored her.
Then she opened her phone.
“I’m not showing you evidence.”
“Thank God.”
“I’m showing you something because Thomas won’t.”
He frowned.
“Nora.”
She turned the screen toward me.
A photograph of a newspaper clipping.
My medical-school graduation announcement.
Another.
My residency match.
Another.
A hospital profile.
Another.
A picture from a charity 5K where I looked exhausted and angry at whoever had taken it.
I looked at Thomas.
“You kept these?”
He looked embarrassed.
“Nora sent some.”
“Why?”
Nora answered.
“Because he pretended not knowing about you was the respectful thing.”
Thomas sighed.
“I did not pretend.”
“You asked me whether she got into Johns Hopkins.”
“I was curious.”
“You drove past her graduation.”
I turned.
“What?”
My father stared at Nora.
“Nora.”
“You are sixty-eight. Live dangerously.”
I looked at him.
“You were there?”
“Outside.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to see you graduate.”
“Did you?”
“From across the street.”
My anger came back immediately.
“You were across the street.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t come in.”
“No ticket.”
“That is not why.”
“No.”
“Then?”
He looked at me.
“You looked happy.”
I stared.
“That is the worst answer you could have given.”
“I know.”
“Stop.”
He shut his mouth.
“You decided happy meant I didn’t need you.”
“Yes.”
“You decided again.”
“Yes.”
Nora looked at the ceiling.
Smart.
I continued.
“You could have walked up.”
“Yes.”
“I might have told you to leave.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
His voice became quieter.
“I didn’t want to ruin the day.”
“For me?”
“For both of us.”
Better.
He had not stayed away only for my benefit.
He was protecting himself from the possibility that I would reject him in front of everyone.
“Did you ever come to anything else?”
“No.”
“Why graduation?”
“It was the one thing your mother talked about constantly.”
I looked away.
Mom had wanted me to become a doctor long before I did.
Not because she was sick.
Because she thought I argued with authority too comfortably to do anything else.
“Did you talk to Nora about me?”
“Yes.”
“A lot?”
“No.”
Nora said:
“He’s lying by measurement.”
Thomas frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“You only asked six times a year, so you’ve decided it wasn't a lot.”
I almost smiled.
Then Nora became serious.
“Claire, he was wrong.”
Thomas looked at her.
She ignored him.
“He should have called.”
“Yes.”
“He should have shown up.”
“Yes.”
“He also wasn’t sitting somewhere with a second family laughing about how easy it was to leave you.”
I hadn’t asked that.
Apparently she knew the question existed anyway.
“Why are you defending him?”
“I’m not.”
She looked at Thomas.
“He wasted years.”
Then back to me.
“And so did you.”
I stiffened.
“How?”
“You knew his Social Security number.”
Thomas blinked.
I almost laughed.
Nora continued.
“You were an adult by twenty-one.”
“Yes.”
“You could have found him.”
“I shouldn’t have had to.”
“No.”
“Then?”
“You didn’t look.”
I said nothing.
Because she was right.
At twenty-five, I could find an old classmate’s home address in twelve minutes.
At thirty, I could locate specialists across three states for patients.
I never searched seriously for Thomas Bennett.
Not because I couldn't.
Because “disappeared” worked better if I never tested whether he was findable.
Thomas started:
“Claire did not owe—”
I pointed.
“Don’t rescue me.”
He stopped.
I looked at Nora.
“Why didn’t I look?”
“That’s yours.”
Unfortunately.
I knew.
If I found him and he was happy, I would have to know he had built a life without me.
If I found him miserable, I might feel responsible.
If I found him apologetic, I might have to decide whether anger still fit.
If I never looked, I could remain abandoned.
Painful.
Stable.
I sat.
Lily walked over carrying two pudding cups.
“Found them.”
“How?”
“I asked.”
Of course.
Children.
She handed one to me.
Then one to Thomas.
We stared.
Lily frowned.
“What?”
Thomas opened his.
I did too.
No one died.
Nora watched us.
“Look at that. Direct communication.”
“Don’t ruin pudding,” I said.
She laughed.
Then her face became serious.
“There’s something else I owe you.”
I looked at her.
“The morning after Rebecca died, your father asked me what you had said about him.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“Nora.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“I told him.”
“The funeral?”
“Yes.”
I had said I hoped he disappeared before he could hurt anyone else.
At eighteen, I meant:
I want him to hear me.
Nora carried it to him like a verdict.
“Why?”
“I was angry with him too.”
That surprised Thomas.
He looked at her.
“You never said that.”
“You left me standing there with a family I barely knew and a sentence I had already made worse.”
Her voice sharpened.
“You were forty-eight and grieving, so everybody let you walk out. I was twenty-five and working, so everybody assumed I could carry the room.”
Thomas looked ashamed.
Nora continued.
“I wanted you to hurt.”
Silence.
“So I told you Claire wished you'd disappear.”
“Yes.”
“And you used it.”
“Yes.”
“Then I spent eighteen years feeling guilty because you actually did.”
Thomas stared at her.
That relationship had its own wreckage.
I had almost turned Nora into the wise witness.
She wasn’t.
She had been young, tired, resentful and wrong too.
May you like
Better.
Nobody in the room could hide behind being the only person who remembered correctly.
