When I left our Paris apartment, I lost Theo’s presence that had lingered around me there. But I found Theo again the day our furniture finally arrived from France. Our bed could not be assembled right away because the screws had been mislaid. I spent the first night in the boardinghouse sleeping on the floor, inside the bedframe, under Theo’s blanket. And he was with me again. His presence was so strong, it was as if he were lying next to me.

I placed our furniture exactly as it had been in Paris. And I hung all the pictures the same, which took me the whole spring. All that time, I imagined Theo with me.

I did not tell Anna that sometimes I pretended that my husband was still alive, at work, and he would walk through the door on his lunch break.

All life is a dream.

“Of course, you miss your Theo.” Anna started walking again. “He was a loving husband.”

“He did not die as peacefully as I led everyone to believe.” My voice dropped to a whisper.

“What do you mean?”

I said nothing.

“Jo?”

“I don’t believe Vincent committed suicide because he suddenly lost hope for his work.” The words rushed from me then. “Yes, for most of his life, he lived with such dark torments. And he had been in and out of various institutes. But his life was turning for the better. Monet himself spoke highly of him and praised his work. Vincent was on the brink of success.”

“Why would he kill himself?”

“After Theo married me, after we had the baby…” My voice broke.

“Vincent must have loved Wil.”

“Of course, he did. But you know Wil was named after him. Vincent Willem van Gogh.”

“To honor him. The sentiment must have brought him happiness.”

“I’m not certain.” I pressed my lips together. I cursed myself for ever broaching the subject.

Anna watched me with endless patience.

“Vincent had an older brother who was stillborn. Vincent was named after him, as if he was nothing but a replacement. And he knew it. His mother took him to his brother’s grave often enough. What must it have felt like for a child to look at his own name on a gravestone?” I shuddered. “When our son was born, Theo wanted the same name. Were we trying to replace Vincent? Of course not. We didn’t mean it like that. But was it how Vincent took our well-meant gesture? He’d been sick. He’d been in the hospital for so long. And here came a newer, better, healthier version, ready to take over. Did Vincent see that as a signal that it was time for him to go?”

“Did he say anything?”