Dear Edward(59)

“What?” Edward’s hand rests on the folder. There’s so much within it, and for the moment he’s within it, and so what Shay’s saying doesn’t make sense.

“That’s when he and Lacey stopped sleeping together, so that timing makes sense.”

Edward looks at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you noticed that John’s been sleeping on the bed in the nursery?”

Edward pictures the nursery, with its stacked boxes and single bed. “I don’t … I never go up to the second floor. How do you know where he’s sleeping?”

Shay swoops her hair up and twists it into a bun with mystifying speed and accuracy. Edward notices, not for the first time, that she has breasts now, the shape of which are visible through her sweatshirt. He blushes, and looks down.

“Lacey told my mom. First she said it was because of an argument, but then she said it was actually because John snores. But that can’t be the real problem, because my mom says with the sleeping pills Lacey takes, there’s no chance she could hear him.”

Edward scans the shadowy room. He’d thought this was a place where his uncle read novels and examined circuit boards, but there’s a darker exploration taking place. The shadows stretch toward him, swollen with potential secrets. “Lacey takes sleeping pills?”

“The doctor gave them to her after the crash. Big horse pills. My mom worries that they’re too strong.” Shay notices the look on his face and gives him a comforting smile. “Don’t worry. I know you don’t notice things. I’ll be better from now on about pointing them out to you.”

A week earlier, a student had brought cupcakes to French class to celebrate their teacher’s imminent maternity leave, and Edward had been confused because he somehow hadn’t noticed the teacher’s gigantic belly or registered any talk of her upcoming departure. With a cupcake in his hand, as the news sank in, he wondered how he’d been able to miss something so obvious.

“Lacey does always go to bed early,” he says, trying to catch up.

Shay nods. “She takes a pill right after dinner.”

Edward presses his palm against the folder, which contains the names and faces and numbers his uncle has gathered. He thinks of all the faces at school that dislike him. He wonders how much else he’s missing and feels sympathetic to his uncle’s instinct to do research and take notes.

“If it makes you feel better,” Shay says, “you notice things I don’t. What do you think brought you out here tonight? I think you were drawn here somehow. You sensed that there was something meaningful going on.”

Edward shakes his head, dismissing that idea, even though at the same time he’s pleased that she can still imagine something special within him.

“Lacey must be upset that John’s doing this.” Shay pokes the duffel bag closest to her. “What do you think’s in these? It must have to do with the flight.”

That hadn’t occurred to Edward. He looks at the enormous bags with suspicion.

“We should open them. There are more folders too. Let’s wait till tomorrow, though. You’re looking a little crazy around the eyes. No need to rush.”

Edward tries to appear celebratory the next night, when he finds that Lacey has tied a balloon to the back of his chair at the kitchen table. “Hey, big guy,” his uncle says. “Fifteen, huh? You kids are really growing up.”

Edward works his face into a smile. He wonders if his aunt or uncle is going to mention that this was Jordan’s age. Probably they won’t, and then he’ll be left wondering if they don’t remember or if they simply don’t know what to say about it.

Shay gave him a pep talk before dinner: “I know you hate your birthday, but try to suck it up for John and Lacey.”

Edward had nodded. Despite the unease this particular birthday delivers, he is sustained by a sodden gratitude, because what’s between him and Shay has been revived. He’s thankful that the folder in the garage made him reach out to Shay and therefore stopped him from blowing up his own life. Earlier today, Shay had looked at him and said, with apparent relief, “You’re being normal again.”

Edward twirls spaghetti around his fork and tries to casually observe his aunt and uncle. Next to him, Shay appears to be doing the same thing. Edward checked the single bed in the nursery that morning, and it was clear John had slept there. His pajamas were folded over a chair, and the bedsheets were mussed. However, Lacey doesn’t appear to dislike her husband. She passes John the bowl of spaghetti and smiles when he makes a dumb joke about fifteen being the processing speed of his first computer.

It occurs to Edward that he hasn’t seen Lacey throw a lightning bolt at her husband in a long time, nor has she clung to John like a needy child. She’s become steadier, but also more distant. Shay’s theory of marital unrest blames John for having a creepy hobby—collecting information on the crash—but Edward wonders if it’s actually Lacey who has changed and therefore thrown the balance off between them.

“How did you guys meet?” Shay says.

“Us?” Lacey looks surprised. “Oh gosh. We met in an Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side. We had a friend in common, and he introduced us. Then we had a big group dinner and sat next to each other.”

“It was snowing,” John says.