Chapter 11 - Anna Came Back The Next Morning
I called her from the same café.
“Did you come back to the Bellweather?”
Anna went silent.
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I tried.”
My stomach tightened.
“Explain.”
She returned at 8:20 the morning after Dad's birthday.
Not for the watch.
For me.
She had missed the early train.
Spent the night at a friend's apartment.
In the morning she decided leaving without trying again felt wrong.
She came to the front desk.
Asked to call our suite.
“What happened?”
“Front desk said we were checking out.”
“We were.”
I remembered luggage.
Dad refusing breakfast.
Mom moving fast.
“Did you ask for me?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“They called upstairs.”
My grip tightened.
“Who answered?”
Anna took time.
“Mom.”
Of course.
“What did she say?”
“I don't know what she told the desk.”
“Then what?”
“Desk manager came back and said the family had requested privacy.”
My face burned.
“Did you leave a message?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Anna laughed softly.
“Nothing poetic.”
“What did it say?”
“Tell Claire I came back.”
I closed my eyes.
“I never got that.”
“I know.”
“Did you give them your address?”
“Yes.”
Ray's ledger.
Forwarding address.
A hotel mechanism that could have reopened contact.
My mother shut it.
“Why didn't you call me again?”
Anna exhaled.
“We did this.”
“I know. Answer anyway.”
“Because I came back.”
Her voice tightened for the first time.
“I came back after you chose dinner over walking me to the station. I came back after you hung up on me. I came back and asked for you.”
She stopped.
“I decided that was enough.”
I nodded though she couldn't see.
“Did you know the watch was found?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
“At the desk.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did they say?”
“That the family had resolved the property issue.”
Same language.
Everyone had received a sentence broad enough to fill with whatever hurt best.
I looked at Ray.
He could hear only my side.
His face had changed.
He remembered the morning.
“Anna.”
“What?”
“Ray says the hotel had your address because you left it.”
“Yes.”
“Mom told them not to contact you.”
Silence.
Then:
“Of course.”
No explosion.
Maybe seventeen years reduces shock to confirmation.
I asked:
“Do you want to talk to her?”
“No.”
Immediate.
“Ever?”
“Don't do that.”
I stopped.
She continued.
“You don't get to turn my no today into a permanent family policy.”
Fair.
“What do you want?”
“I want my watch.”
I looked at it.
“Okay.”
That simple.
“Mail it.”
“Insured.”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
Anna thought.
“Photograph the crack first.”
“Why?”
“You made it.”
I almost smiled.
“Still blaming me.”
“Absolutely.”
Then her voice softened.
“Claire.”
“Yes?”
“Don't bring it here.”
I stopped.
She continued.
“I know how you work.”
“What does that mean?”
“You'll turn returning an object into a reason we have to sit together before either of us knows what we want.”
I hated how accurate that was.
“Mail.”
“Mail.”
“Okay.”
We almost hung up.
Then I asked:
“Why did you want me at the station?”
Anna was quiet.
“Because I was scared.”
I stared at the table.
“You never said that.”
“I was twenty-two.”
“You said, ‘Come with me.’”
“I know.”
“You made it sound like a test.”
“It was a little.”
I almost laughed.
She continued.
“I wanted to know if you'd choose me.”
“So Mom was right about that.”
“Partly.”
Interesting.
Anna did not protect herself from complexity.
“And if I'd gone?”
“I would’ve put you in a cab back to the hotel after my train left.”
May you like
I closed my eyes.
Seventeen years built around one walk neither of us knew how to ask for honestly.
