Chapter 6 - The Man Who Raised My Boy
Tyler came to the hospital parking lot the next morning because I refused to meet him alone inside his house.
Nora waited in her car with the engine running.
He looked exhausted.
His wedding ring flashed as he twisted his hands together.
“I'm sorry about the plate,” he said.
“Are you sorry she threw it, or sorry somebody called the police?”
“Grandma.”
“No, Tyler.
You don't get to use that word as a way out.”
He stared at the pavement.
I remembered him at seven, holding my hand outside the funeral home after we buried his mother.
He had asked whether love disappeared when somebody died.
I told him love stayed, even when people didn't.
I still believed that.
I just hadn't understood how badly love could be used.
“Marissa's parents are in trouble,” he said finally.
“Her dad's business had a bad year.”
“So I owe him my house?”
“He says the house could save everybody.”
“Everybody except me and my tenant.”
Tyler rubbed his face.
“Marissa thinks you don't like her.”
“She threw a plate at my head.”
“I know.”
“Then say it out loud.”
He looked up, frightened.
“She assaulted you.”
The words seemed to cost him something.
For a moment I saw the man I had tried to raise.
“Did you give Marcus keys to the rental?” I asked.
Tyler hesitated.
“I gave him a spare key months ago.
He said he needed to check the plumbing.”
“And my documents?”
His face changed.
“What documents?”
I described the signature on the paper beneath the sideboard.
May you like
His breathing slowed.
“Grandma,” he said, “I think I know where they got it.”
