“What?” she said.
“I found this notebook. He wrote in it that he wanted to go to Italy. To Sicily specifically. It seemed like it was important to him. But maybe it was just a random thought or something. I don’t know.”
“Syracuse,” Marian said.
“What?” Daniel said.
“I forgot all about that,” she said. “Syracuse. That’s where he wanted to go.”
“You meanhere?” I said.
“No,” she said. “I mean Syracuse in Sicily.Siracusa.”
I looked at Daniel. He was stone-faced.
“It’s a city in Sicily. He saw it once on a travel show. I was in the other room, working on our taxes. He had been talking to me from the living room about computer science classes he wanted to take in college. Then he just went silent. I asked him a couple of questions that went unanswered until finally I got up from the table and came into the room and he was just staring at the TV.”
“Look,” he said. “Another Syracuse.”
“And we both watched the host walk through the beautiful ancient streets of the city’s historic district. Jonah looked mesmerized. At one point he said something so quiet I almost didn’t hear him.”
“What did you say, sweetie?” I asked.
“That’s where I live,” he said.
“That’s where youwantto live?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “That’s where I live right now. The other me.”
“What other you?” I asked him.
“The... one who’s not depressed. He lives in the other Syracuse. And he walks those streets in that bright sun everyday. I’m sure of it.”
“I told him there was nootherhim. That he was the perfect version. But I could see that he wasn’t listening. That he had kind of stuck on this idea. That there was this alternate city with an alternate him in it. I never heard him talk about going there, though.”
“It was a place he wanted to go when he felt better,” said Daniel. “That’s how it seemed.”
Now Marian really did start crying, and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to watch. I got up after a minute or two and got her a glass of water. She drank half of it and smiled at me through her tears.
“Where are you two staying tonight?” she asked.
“At a hotel,” I said. “Near the university.”
“We should probably get back,” Daniel said.
She took another drink of water and then put a hand on my arm.
“I’d like you to stay here,” she said. “Just for a night. Would you do that?”
31
So we did. We were a little uneasy about the whole thing, but we agreed because how could we really say no? Marian made us spaghetti with some of the basil we’d uncovered in the garden. We ate. We drank tumblers of diet soda. She pulled some old Popsicles out of the freezer, and we politely licked the frost off of them. She didn’t mention Jonah again. Instead, she asked us mom questions about ourselves.
I lied and said I was still at Quaker school, and Daniel talked about college. It didn’t seem right to tell her that our lives had been so shaken by the death of her son. That we had both dropped out of life in different ways because of it. Maybe a part of her wanted to hear that life couldn’t go on without him, but I was too afraid it would compound her pain.
At some point, I called my confused father and told him where we were staying. Then it was time for bed. This timearound I was the one on the couch. Which meant Daniel was in Jonah’s room. All night Marian hadn’t once invited us in there, but then when the time came to sleep, she just casually told Daniel it was his room for the night. I could tell he was a little freaked out, but he didn’t let on to Marian. He just disappeared down the hall and shut the door.
I got a text message only a minute or two later.
