Was it planned all along that she would go to the Cocoanut Grove that night, or did something suddenly beckon her to go that way? I have looked for clues, thinking I had something a couple of times. There was the name of a man who had taken quite a few classes and danced with my mother many times—a name traced to an address and then to a daughter who had moved to Ohio and by then was middle-aged. “Did you know your father was taking dancing lessons?” I asked her. “Did he ever mention my mother’s name?” Perhaps she’d had no suspicions about her father until I planted that seed, or perhaps there really was nothing to suspect. My mother had called an old friend of hers that night, someone who also taught dance classes, but the woman said her husband had answered and by the time she got to the phone, it had gone dead. “Are you sure?” I asked, and it was clear that I was suggesting she might not be telling me the truth, but the woman reached for her husband’s hand and assured me that was what happened. If there was something she didn’t tell me, it died with her a few years ago.

All I have are bits and pieces of a giant puzzle, like those 2,000-piece ones we used to do when we went to Gloucester. Remember, Jeff, how you would always steal a piece so you could magically produce it at the end? We should have taken better note of that. We should have had a conversation, because I think this tendency might explain what happened in your marriage and your divorce—things like withholding what’s important, keeping to yourself what might benefit another, the need to always be the winner or the one who has the answer. Becca, you didn’t seem to care. You just wanted to go buy some flip-flops or the latest suntan oil, or go to Virgilio’s for a sandwich and then get back in the water, but, Jeff, you controlled those puzzles. And of course it feels good to find that final piece, the snug placement that completes the whole picture.

April 6, 2017
Southern Pines

It is too hot to be outside today. I breathe better in the air-conditioning, even though then I am freezing; the windows all fog over with condensation. I asked your father what if we are in a terrarium on a shelf somewhere in the twilight zone, where they are studying old age, migration, and evolution. He said he suspects we are giving them their money’s worth.