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“Sophie’s mother got a new job, as the artistic director of the San Francisco Ballet. Sophie wrote to say how excited she was to learn that Mom was going to audition for the orchestra.”

“The ballet’s coming to New York on tour?” I asked, confused.

“No. I checked. But their resident pianist is retiring at the end of this season. They’re looking for someone new to start in September.”

An old joke came to mind for some reason, about a woman who won the lottery and rushed home to tell her husband to pack his bags. “What should I pack? Warm stuff or cold stuff?” he asked excitedly. “Who cares?” the woman replied. “Just get the hell out.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I stammered. “You’re telling me that your mother’s planning to leave me.”

Kate shook her head forcefully, seeming more composed with her secret out.

“No. That’s why I was worried about telling you, because I knew you’d jump to the wrong conclusion. I’m betting Sophie’s mother asked Mom if she was interested, and Mom said yes without really giving it much thought. It’s a good thing, in a way. It means Mom’s interested in her career again. You always told me how important her career was to her, when you first met.”

Kate was trying to twist the facts, to make the blow less painful. A surge of anger gave way to a feeling of panic. I’d told Claire the truth the previous evening. I was scared, too. And the thing I was most scared of was another loss. Kate or Claire. They were all I had.

“She said yes to an audition for a job in San Francisco, and she hasn’t mentioned it to me. That has to mean something.”

“But not that she wants to leave you. I think she’s scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of spending so much time alone in our apartment next year, after I go to college.” Kate reached out for my hand. “Everything there reminds her of Kyle. She needs to let go. To really let go. To leave New York and put all the bad associations behind her.”

“She told you that?”

“Not in so many words. Sophie’s note was what pulled it together for me.” Kate squeezed my hand. “You need to talk to her, Dad.”

“And say what? That I have a sudden urge to move to San Francisco?”

“Maybe.” Kate ventured a smile. “There’s less snow.”

I disentangled myself gently and stood up, moving to the window.

“What was the line from that eighties flick we watched a few weekends ago? Buckaroo Banzai? ‘No matter where you go, there you are.’ Moving to San Francisco isn’t going to change anything.”

“It might if you let it.”

I stared down at the street below, my chest aching.

“I’m not the one stuck in the past, Kate.”

“For Christ’s sake, Dad,” she shouted. “Are you fucking kidding me? You treat Mom like an invalid, you have this conspiracy with the doorman to hide Kyle’s mail, and every time we ride up or down the elevator, you moon about the dent in the paneling. It’s not just the apartment she needs to get away from.”

Turning, I saw Kate was leaning across my desk, her cheeks blazing.

“So, you think she should leave me?” I asked, overwhelmed at this onslaught.

“No. Don’t you get it? It’s not you she needs to get away from. It’s your never-ending obsession with what happened to Kyle.”

I felt like my chest was going to burst.

“How can I not be obsessed? I’m the one who flew off that night to give some stupid, goddamned speech. I should’ve been there.…”

“That’s right. You should have been there. And if you were, you probably would have walked to the video store with Kyle, and nothing bad ever would have happened. But don’t forget that I was the one who wanted to watch the movie, and Yolanda was the one who taped over it, and Mom was the one who let Kyle go out by himself, and Kyle was the one who insisted on running the errand. It was everybody’s fault. We’re all guilty, and we all have to get over it.”

I turned back to the window, trying to calm myself.

“None of us are ever going to forget what happened,” Kate continued softly. “That’s a given. But if you can’t at least try to put the past behind you—to move beyond your