“You’re Claire.”
“Yes.”
“Jack’s wife.”
I nodded.
“Can I see Ethan?”
Denise invited me inside.
A little boy was sitting on the floor, carefully building a train track.
When he looked up, I immediately noticed something familiar in his expression.
“Ethan?”
He nodded.
“
smiled despite myself.
“She does.”
He also knew that I made pancakes on Sundays.
It was clear that Jack had talked about our family more than I had realized.
“Did Jack visit you often?”
Denise nodded.
“He cared about Ethan very much.”
“As his father?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer left me more confused than before.
I needed another explanation.
The next day, I when they were young had never wanted me to feel pressured into taking responsibility for something I hadn’t chosen.
Later that evening, Mara came to see me again.
“Why didn’t he tell me?” I asked.
“Because he knew
