The bakery bag betrayed him immediately.
Arthur noticed first.
“Mum would’ve hidden the bag.”
“She taught me nothing,” Simon said.
They laughed.
Dinner was simple.
Roast chicken.
Potatoes.
A bowl of carrots Arthur regarded with suspicion.
Halfway through the meal, Beatrice mentioned the lake.
Arthur began telling her about skipping stones.
Then he paused.
Elias looked toward him.
“Everything all right?”
His son nodded.
“I forgot the photograph.”
“You can tell the story without it.”
“I know.”
Arthur seemed pleased by that.
He finished describing the third skip, exaggerating the distance enough that Simon asked whether the stone had reached Canada.
After dinner, Arthur went to the garden table.
The silver frame stood beneath a lamp.
Beside it was the new school photograph Elias had ordered an extra copy of.
Arthur studied them.
Then he picked up the picture of himself.
His father, coming to collect the empty water glasses, stopped.
“Where are you taking that?”
“Grandma wants one.”
“All right.”
Arthur carried it back to Beatrice.
She accepted it with the seriousness the gift deserved.
When Elias returned to the table, the space beside Nora’s photograph was empty.
He no longer saw that empty space as something that demanded a replacement.
Arthur had given his picture to someone who loved him.
It was that simple.
Later, his son found him by the stairs.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“If you love somebody else one day…”
Elias waited.
Arthur’s fingers rested on the banister.
“Will they have to like all our stories?”
His father considered the question.
“They won’t have to know every story at the beginning.”
“What if they get tired?”
“Then they can tell me how they feel. They cannot make you ashamed of having a life before they arrived.”
Arthur nodded slowly.
“And you’ll listen?”
“Yes.”
“To me too?”
