Chapter 13: Her Side of the Table

"Let her in, Matilda," my mother said behind me.

"Mom."

"Let her in. Then I'd like my tea in the sunroom."

She rang the bell on the arm of her chair, which I had never once seen her do.

An aide came, and my mother let herself be wheeled past the doorway.

As she went she touched Odette's wrist.

Odette flinched, and then she stood very still until the wheels were gone.

I sat down on the edge of the bed.

She set the lilies on the windowsill and did not sit.

"You put a brick through my window," I said.

"Yes."

"You forged my name on a term sheet."

"Yes."

"You sat across from me at the diner and asked if I wanted a refill."

"Yes," Odette said. "I'm not going to tell you I didn't."

I had come ready for a lie, with a speech to answer it.

Her honesty left me holding the speech.

"Then tell me why," I said.

She looked at her hands.

"My mother cleaned offices in Columbus. She never lied to me about him."

"She said his name was Desmond Lowry, that he was married, and that he was sorry."

"He paid our rent every month until I turned eighteen. A check, with no note."

"When I was seventeen I wrote him a letter. He wrote back two lines."

She took out her wallet and unfolded a square of yellow paper that had been creased soft.

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