She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I do find myself—”

He fiddled with the short stem of his glass, knowing that something unpleasant was coming, as it usually did.

“Theo.” He looked up, hearing an unusual grief in her voice. “I am not disappointed in you, not ever. But I am sad, for your sake.”

“Really.” His teenage drawl spilled out.

“Theo,” a bit of reproval, “Not because of the end of your marriage. But because you felt you had to enter into it at all.”

A swift jab of shock and humiliation in his stomach. He nearly dropped the glass, a bit of whiskey sloshing over the edge.

“I should have known, as your mother, though I know I—I wasn’t good at it.” She laughed, a little bitter. “We never spoke of our...our inner workings. Or anything, really. That was my fault.”

“I...”

She shook her head, fine silvery hair brushing her shoulders, not letting him interrupt. “I trusted that you could choose the right path. And I did not question, out of my own cowardice, maybe my selfishness, why you came back. We just didn’t talk about it.”

“Mother—”

“And you don’t need to talk about it. You are a grown man now, not a little boy. And we can’t change the past. I cannot change all the things I should have—and I just hope I am a better grandmother than I was a—”

Almost a grimace. Almost a full confession of guilt.

“But Theo...” She leaned forward in her chair, composure regained. He did, too, their faces so close. “You’ve been so terribly unhappy.”

He took a deep breath. Smelled her lilac perfume. “You know I love my son. I would never change that. Not even—”

“I do know. He’s a wonderful child, and I—” And then she shifted, eyes sharpening, and he saw in her the mother he should have had. He pitied her and loved her and he was still so, so alone. “But now, now that you are no longer married, now that Jasper is in school—I’ll finally open my mouth, and...”

He nearly whispered, “What, Mom?”

“Be happy. Just be happy. Whatever that means.”

He felt a tear gather in the corner of his eye. As it fell, she brushed it away with the tissue-paper tenderness of her lined fingers.

“Make me proud—no. You already do. You always have, even though I neglected to say it.”

He felt a tremor in his heart, in that old wound.

“Theo, you should finally do what you want to do.”

“Father wouldn’t—” Another habit, remembering him. Heeding him.