“But I only came home once in over ten years. One time. And only for a few days.”

“He raised you to live your life. Besides, he didn’t want you to worry about your mom.”

“My mom? Why would I worry about my mom?”

Brad rubbed his hand over her shoulder as if she were a precious wood instrument he was about to play. “It was hard on him.”

“What?”

“You know.” Brad pointed at his forehead. “That she was starting to lose it.”

Poppy sat up and pushed Brad’s arm off of her. “What are you talking about? My mom wasn’t losing it.”

Suddenly, Brad’s face took on the expression of someone who’d accidentally let someone know about their surprise party.

“My mom was smart. Scary smart. She could speak four languages and play the viola. You should have heard her recite poetry. She read every book in the library. She wasn’t losing it.”

“I’m really sorry. I thought you knew.”

“There was nothing to know.”

“She got lost once, for two days. I helped your dad look for her. They found her under the North Avenue Bridge wandering the Oak Leaf Trail.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re making this up.”

“Why would I do that? God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think I would be the first person to tell you.”

Her mother, who knew every twist and turn of the Milwaukee River, who walked all over the East Side, couldn’t possibly have gotten lost there. No, no. “She was fine.”

“That’s why I moved in, Poppy. Your dad wanted me to help keep an eye on her. It came on fast.”

“No!” She wished she could cover her ears.

“Haven’t you noticed all the prescriptions lined up on the kitchen shelf? What do you think those were for? Donepezil, galantamine.”

Yes, Poppy had seen the prescriptions, but she hadn’t checked the labels, in case they were pills she’d be tempted to take herself.

“There are crossword-puzzle and sudoku books on every surface. Poppy, she hadn’t worked in almost a year.”

Poppy tried to recall their phone conversations, but her dad always said her mom was out on a walk or at book club or working in the garden. She thought of all her dad’s excuses for why they couldn’t come visit, tried hard to remember how long it had been since she’d spoken with her mom. She didn’t know, couldn’t remember.

“Hey, I know this is hard. My grandfather, he—”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t … I can’t…”

Brad was quiet, waiting for what he’d said to sink in.

“Why wouldn’t my dad say something?”

“What good would it do? What would it change?”