They shook hands, but it didn’t feel right. It was too proper for them.
“It’s late,” Nathan said.
“I’m sorry if I woke you. I called around to all the hotels looking for Roger Hargrove. I wanted to catch you before you left.”
“I don’t leave until tomorrow evening. How do you know my father’s name?”
From his shopping bag, Mark pulled a black, worn journal with dust wiped off the cover. Mark didn’t have to say whom they belonged to.
“This is what you were looking for in the basement?”
Nathan nodded.
“I did some digging tonight.” Pain surged across Mark’s face. He had to sit down. “Nathan, I want to apologize, on behalf of my family.”
“No, I need to apologize. I’m sorry for lying to you and your kids.”
“I’m sorry for what happened to you. Mariel explained everything in these journals. Her parents threatened to institutionalize her and take away Franny and Walt if she ever breathed a word about you. They were so ashamed of her and…so cruel.”
Nathan saw how they reacted at Franny’s dress. He could only imagine what they said when their already rebellious daughter got knocked up in a foreign country.
“They never should’ve kept her away from you. No matter what the circumstances were.”
“It wasn’t too Christian of them,” Nathan said.
“Mariel was forever rebelling against them. I think that’s why she got into theater, so she could be women she wasn’t allowed to be at home.” Mark handed the shopping bag over to Nathan. “I want you to have these.”
It was filled to the brim with journals, some leather-bound, some dollar-store ones, some in better condition than others. An entire life tucked snuggly into a single bag.
“Are you sure? These are Mariel’s personal items.”
“You deserve to know who your mother was. She never stopped thinking about you. Every May ninth, she would write an entry to you wondering about what you were up to.”
“Why May ninth?”
Mark cocked his head to the side. “Because that’s your birthday.”
Nathan’s eyes opened wide. “May ninth is my birthday? It’s not May thirteenth?” He turned to his dad. “I have a real birthday!”
“I found Nathan on my doorstep May thirteenth,” his dad explained to Mark. “We put that as his official birthday.”
“I have a real birthday!” Nathan threw his arms open and shouted it for the entire hotel lobby to hear. He felt like Geppetto had made him a real boy.
“Hard out!” Mark said.
Nathan got quiet, his elation replaced with a different kind of warmth. “That means Mum spent four days with me.”
It was a blip compared to the time most kids got to spend with their mothers, but Nathan would take it.
Mark picked up the paper bag. “I also included photographs and programs for you. I spent the past few hours digging through her possessions in the basement. Walt is going to upload her performance videos to YouTube and send you a private link. He knows more about that than I do.”
“Mark, thank you so much.” Nathan’s throat clogged with emotion.
“We’ll pack up and box your stuff and ship it to you in London, if you’d like.”
“You’re ready to get rid of me, I reckon.” Nathan smirked.
“Just the opposite. I don’t want this to be the end, Nathan. You have an open invitation to come back to our house whenever you want. You can email or call me if you ever have questions about Mariel. She was your mother, and I will never restrict information. Also,” Mark cleared his throat. “whenever you want to visit or talk to Franny and Walt, that is your right. I know things are in a very precarious place currently, but they are your siblings, and you deserve to have a relationship with them, if you choose.”
