As in a gift. Or as in: It is better to give . . .

You . . .

Seeing as it was my ear into which she had whispered, her you meant me. This led to the question: “Why me?” Granted, I’d been helpful. A friend. We’d had several heart-to-heart conversations. And I was really good with Sophie. So yes, I deserved a thank-you note, maybe an Armani tie or a holiday basket of fruit and cheese. Make me a tin of Christmas cookies! But to offer . . .

A weekend.

What, just the two of us alone? To be alone together for the two days that comprise a weekend? What was Anna Brody thinking? Was she even thinking? And was I to take her offer seriously? Surely she was joking. Or was it a game? A tease?

Truth be told, I couldn’t even determine whether she was serious, because the day after our curious encounter in the produce section of the Garden of Eden on Montague Street, Anna Brody left the country with her husband and daughter for a trip abroad.

So for the time being, I was left all alone to wonder what she’d meant. I tried to put her offer out of my mind, to get on with my life, that sort of thing. But too often, random Anna Brody thoughts popped up, especially whenever I worked on my dissertation. If her intention had been to pervade my daily life, she’d succeeded. I wished it were otherwise, but her words, and the direct, almost desperate manner in which they’d been said, not only lingered, they burrowed their way in, deep.

This may help explain why I wrote the following letter.

1/13 3:13 A.M.

Dear Coach,

The greatest gift we can give our parents is to not make their mistakes. Would you agree? I suspect you do. So would you do me a favor? Please list your ten biggest mistakes in no particular order. Any explanation as to why these ten and not any of the many others would be appreciated. This is not meant to be vindictive or to hurt you. My sister and I both would like to benefit from your hard-earned life lessons. By making new and different mistakes, not only do we honor the past, it’s how we also honor you.

Your son,

Tim

I addressed the envelope, sealed it, and affixed a LOVE stamp. The next morning I dropped it in the mail.

Two days later, our phone machine’s message light was blinking. It was Coach: “What kind of bullshit is this? Mistakes? List my ten biggest mistakes? That’s weakness, Tim. Plain and simple. Sissy talk. What’s happened to you? I can’t figure it out. I thought New York would toughen you up. What have you been doing, going to church?”

No, but it occurred to me: Now, there’s a good idea.

If ever a person needed church.