Chapter 4
I did.
“Did Dad tell you about the letter?”
Silence.
Then, “What letter?”
Interesting.
“He left me a letter.”
“What did he say?”
“That’s between Dad and me.”
She didn’t like that.
I could hear it immediately.
“Nora, we’re your parents.”
“Yes.”
“We shouldn’t have secrets in this family.”
I almost laughed.
Instead, I asked, “Do you know what I did for my twenty-sixth birthday?”
“What?”
“My last birthday. Do you remember what I did?”
A pause.
“I’m sure we had dinner.”
“We didn’t.”
“Well, around Christmas everything becomes such a blur.”
“Exactly.”
“Nora—”
“What did you get me?”
Another pause.
“I don’t remember every gift I’ve bought, honey.”
“What did you get Vanessa for her twenty-third?”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
Nothing.
I waited.
Finally she said, “We bought her the Cartier bracelet, but that was because twenty-three was a difficult year for her.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course she remembered.
Brand.
Reason.
Birthday.
Everything.
“What did you do for my twenty-fifth?”
“Nora, what is the point of this?”
“The point is that you remember hers.”
“That’s unfair.”
“No, Mom. It’s measurable.”
Her voice sharpened.
“So now you’re keeping score?”
That sentence would once have made me retreat.
It would have made me apologize.
I would have said I wasn’t trying to cause drama.
I would have reassured her.
Therapy had ruined that reflex.
“Yes,” I said.
She went silent.
“I am keeping score because you spent twenty-seven years telling me there wasn’t a score.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Vanessa got a yacht.”
“We had access to it through one of your father’s clients.”
“She got a live band.”
“That wasn’t as expensive as you think.”
“She got a vineyard and a private chef.”
“It was her twenty-fourth.”
I laughed.
Mom stopped.
“What?”
“Nothing. I just realized you don’t even hear yourself.”
“I have always loved you equally.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t love me.”
That stopped her.
“I said you didn’t treat me equally.”
“Well, children have different needs.”
“Yes. And somehow Vanessa’s needs always cost thousands of dollars, while mine required me to understand.”
“That is not true.”
“Then tell me about one birthday.”
“What?”
“One.”
I stood by my living room window.
“Tell me about one birthday of mine that you planned. One where you picked a restaurant because I liked it. One where you invited my friends. One where the cake wasn’t also a Christmas dessert. One where my gift wasn’t combined with Christmas. One where I didn’t have to pretend I wasn’t disappointed.”