“Yes, honey. It’s not like this is something that just came up last week.”
“Right,” Carver said, running his tongue over his teeth. “Or, say, fifteen minutes ago.”
Nora dabbed her eyes again. “I was speaking in regard to your father and myself.”
“Okay. And when do we involve Carver? Any day now would be fantastic.”
“Please don’t be spiteful.”
“I’m really, really trying,” Carver said.
Nora was still not looking him in the eye. She turned her head and gazed out through the open French doors, into the empty hallway. “I know,” she said in a voice full of grief. “I know you are.”
There seemed to be more coming, but she went quiet. Carver waited.
“It just got away from us,” Nora said, her voice barely audible.
“Who’s us?”
“Your father and I.”
Carver swallowed. “Which —”
“My husband,” she snapped.
“Okay. Got it.”
“God,” Nora said, and put her face in her hands again. “That’s what I mean. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. What do you mean, that’s what you mean?”
“I meant we thought we could handle this better than we did. We got through the awful part, we discussed it, and we committed to a plan. And I really believed we could do it.”
“Do what?”
Nora shrugged helplessly. “Raise you as if you were our own. Raise you as if nothing had happened.”
Carver bounced his leg. “There are some immediately obvious flaws with that plan?”
Nora finally looked at him, and surprised him by letting out a rueful laugh. “You think this is the first time you’ve said that to me? You’ve been saying that to me your entire life.”
“I’vewhat?”
“Not consciously. Not in so many words. But… God. I’m sorry. None of this is your fault.” She exhaled and twisted the tissue in her hand. Her engagement ring caught the light and sparkled. “You didn’t have to tell us that you’ve felt it your entire life. We knew that. You’ve always known something wasn’t right. It was like a cosmic joke. Your father could never settle you when you were a newborn, you screamed in his arms. And when you got older you — you could be so sullen and spiteful. And always so, so smart. Brilliant, really.” For a moment she sounded proud. “Even as a baby you stared right into us as if you knew. It was terrifying. That sounds so silly and horrible to say. I can’t even imagine what you think of me right now.” She let out another laugh, this one choked with tears. “I can’t believe Preston figured it out, and you didn’t. I always thought you would. It was like living with unexploded ordnance.”
Carver’s mouth was dry, and hot tears prickled his eyes. “That’s not fair,” he said, “to me.”
“No,” Nora agreed. “No, it was tremendously unfair. The shame compounded itself. And of course we didn’t know what to do with you. Send you to a therapist? You wouldn’t even be ableto tell them what was wrong. You might get off track and spend years chasing your tail.”
“Why didn’t you justtell me,” Carver said, doing his best to keep his rage out of his voice.
Nora nodded. “The older you got, the more impossible it was,” she said. “We thought it would make things worse. You’ve always been more distant from us emotionally than your brother and sister. We worried we might lose you for good.”
“This is the most cowardly stuff I’ve ever heard you say. You would never in a million years let me excuse this type of behavior.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“I always felt like you were holding me to a higher standard. Not just higher than Chip and Conway, but everyone.”
