She stood back, her hands on my arms. “My goodness. Oh, look at you. You’re a man. Goodness, goodness, I’m going to try not to cry. Quiet, Teddy,” she said to the yappy dog dancing around her legs. “Come in. You should have called—I would have made sure Phil was here and had some snacks ready. Oh, forget that. You never need to call. And who needs snacks. It’s just so good to see you.” She led me into the living room where there were several large bins sitting off to the side, the contents green and red and cheerful. It appeared that she’d just started decorating for Christmas. There were a few pieces of new furniture, but it looked mostly the same and something eased inside me so that I could take in a full breath. I sat down on the beige sofa, looking around at the familiar items, the family photos I’d committed to memory long ago. A studio pose of the three of them, another of Emily with dirty knees, grinning with a slice of orange rind covering her teeth like a goof. It made me smile. I knew from Mrs. Swanson’s updates that Emily had been picked up by a record label and recorded an album that was garnering all sorts of success. I wasn’t surprised. She’d been hugely talented, even as a kid. When I looked back at Mrs. Swanson, she was watching me as I took in the room. “How are you, Tuck?” she asked. “Really?”

I sat back, sighed. “Getting by.”

A crease formed between her brows. “I wanted to visit you,” she said. “I would have—”

“I know,” I said. “I know you would have.” She’d written to me many times over the course of my sentence. I’d appreciated the lifeline, but I’d asked that she not come see me. I couldn’t bear it. Just the thought of sitting there in my state-issued uniform in a family visiting room while my mother’s best friend sat across from me had hot shame creeping up my neck. I couldn’t face the reality. I’d written back, though with far less regularity. There weren’t many updates to convey from behind bars.

“Have you talked to your father since…”

Since. I knew very well the words left unsaid. Since you got out of prison.

“No.”

She reached out and briefly touched my hand where it lay on my knee. “Tuck. Surely you don’t still harbor resentment toward him. It’s been so long.”