After a long pause, Matylda answered softly, “Life.” She sighed and took the photo. “Life can do funny things,” Matylda sighed, “people react in different ways, some rise to a challenge, others …don’t.”

Tomas tipped his head back and looked up at the ceiling. “Why does it have to be so complicated?”

Matylda took his hand. “We make it difficult. Your Dad’s business folded, it can happen to anyone. He tried to start again, but had one too many failures. It pushed him over the edge.”

“But why… why did he leave us?”

Matylda’s hand went to her stomach. “Not you, it was never you. He loved you more than anything; he just lost it and made some bad decisions. And…” her voice hardened, “I think there was another woman.”

Tomas leant forward and stared at the old carpet, he wondered how long it had been in the house. He spoke to the floor, “Will I end up like… like him?”

“No, no you’re stronger than he… was,” Matylda nudged him with her elbow, “and don’t forget, you’ve got your Granddad’s blood in your veins, a flying ace.”

But Tomas didn’t appreciate her attempt to cheer him. Finally, he asked the question that had been waiting since his death. It came out fast, as if any delay would prevent it being asked ever again. “Did he deliberately drive at that wall?” Tomas felt her body sag.

She clasped her hands and rubbed them, so the skin bunched under her fingers. “I won’t lie to you, I’ve asked the same question. But we’ll never know what was on his mind.”

“But he knew that road so well, how could—”

“He was three times over the limit, it could have been an accident. I can’t imagine that even blind drunk, he wanted to kill himself and leave us,” her head dropped, “or if not me, certainly not you.”

“But he’d already walked out,” his anger grew, “what did he care what happened to us!” He stood, stomped over to the window and looked out onto the bleak street below. The snow had started to thaw, allowing the traffic to move again at its usual pace. Tomas watched the procession of strangers passing by his window, no doubt dealing with troubles of their own.

He couldn’t hold in his frustration. He twisted back to face Matylda, his voice rose, “The last two years have been… have been shit! I hate this place,” he spat in anger, “I hate the college and—”