Chapter 10 — Celia’s Last View of Conrad
Yvette chose her words carefully.
“She didn’t write that she hated you.”
Conrad looked toward her.
“What did she write?”
“That she didn’t know what kind of man you became after she stopped speaking to you.”
Conrad nodded slowly.
“Fair.”
Yvette continued.
“She said people are more than the worst thing they did in one relationship.”
Conrad’s eyes filled.
He looked away.
“That sounds like Celia.”
“She also said I don’t owe you a relationship.”
“You don’t.”
“And that I don’t owe her permanent anger on her behalf.”
Conrad looked back at her.
“She wrote that?”
“Yes.”
He covered his mouth briefly.
For several seconds he could not speak.
Yvette did not comfort him.
Not because she was cruel.
Because she had known him for less than an hour.
His grief belonged to him.
Then he whispered:
“She gave you the choice I never gave her.”
Yvette understood immediately.
Conrad had tried to decide what was best for Celia.
Celia, even after death, had refused to decide what was best for Yvette.
She left information.
Then choice.
Yvette looked at his ring again.
“Why do you still wear it?”
Conrad smiled faintly.
“Habit.”
“And because it belonged to my father.”
“Celia hated that ring.”
“Why?”
“Because I used to tap it against the dining table when I was annoyed.”
Yvette laughed unexpectedly.
Conrad laughed too.
The tension broke briefly.
Then Yvette asked:
“Did you ever know Mom was sick?”
Conrad’s smile disappeared.
“No.”
“Not until after she died.”
“How did you find out?”
“An obituary.”
Yvette’s expression softened despite herself.
“You weren’t contacted?”
“No.”
“Did you attend the funeral?”
“No.”
Yvette frowned.
“Why not?”
“Because even death doesn’t automatically cancel a boundary somebody kept for thirty years.”
That answer stayed with Yvette.
Conrad continued:
“I went to the cemetery a week later.”
“Alone.”
“I said goodbye.”
Yvette looked toward him.
“What did you say?”
Conrad smiled sadly.
“Mostly apologies she couldn’t hear.”
Then he reached into his wallet again.
This time he removed a folded card.
“There is one thing I have kept since then.”
Yvette looked cautious.
It was not a letter from Celia.
It was a note Conrad had written to himself after visiting her grave.
And the first sentence explained why he had not approached Yvette when he recognized her that morning.