Spoonbenders

“I don’t think I can live with him, either. We can hold it together for a weekend, but after that—the little lies just start piling up. Every day there’s a slipup, and I get more and more paranoid.”

“So you’ve got to forgive him every day. How’s that different from any couple? Your mom? Hoo boy. She had to forgive me five times before breakfast.”

“You’re a hell of a role model, Dad.”

He pulled up to the curb, then reached down to pop the trunk. “Good luck out there, kid.”

“I just wish I knew where this was going.”

“Who does?”

“Well…”

“Not even your brother, not anymore.”

Poor Buddy. Irene hoped he was happy, walking around in the dark like everyone else now. “Have you heard from him?” she asked.

“Not a word, not a word.”

“I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

“Me neither.”

She pulled the bag out of the trunk, and was surprised to see that Dad had gotten out of the car. He never did that.

“There’s only one thing you need to know,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“When your man says he loves you, is he telling the truth?”

“That is so profound, Dad.”

“Answer the question. Is he?”

“Every time,” she said. “Every damn time.”

TEDDY

New love walks up and slaps you on the butt, demands your attention, gets your pulse racing. Old love lies in wait. It’s there in the evening when your eyes are closing. It slides into bed beside you, runs its ghost fingers through your hair, whispers your secret name. Old love is never gone.

The envelope, this time, was delivered by Mrs. Klauser, his neighbor. “Buddy gave this to me a month ago,” she said. She held leashes for two dogs, one a puppy. “He made me promise not to deliver it until today. I hope it’s okay.”

Multiple hands had been involved—a jagged ink for his name, and blocky pink crayon (crayon!) for today’s date—written decades apart, he guessed.

“Oh, and this, too,” she said. An orange and white box, addressed in that same crayon, to Matthias Telemachus. Teddy walked into the house, set the package on the table, and then stopped, stunned.

The house was quiet. No sawing or drilling. No elementary school girls squealing over stuffed animals. No one loudly complaining about who drank all the milk.

Huh.

It was a relief when he heard a thunk above him. He went upstairs and rapped on Matty’s door. “You ready?” he asked.

“Almost,” he answered.

Teddy went into his bedroom. He held the envelope to his nose, trying to catch a scent of her. Not a thing. The paper was old, and had traveled through machines and mail bins to reach him. Any whiff he caught now would be imaginary. He held the envelope to the front of the hat, in the traditional manner, and then opened it.

Dearest Teddy,

I hope you get this, out there in the future. Buddy says he can’t see anything after September of that year, and I’m so afraid for what this means. If your heart is broken now, as mine is, then the world is even crueler than I feared.

I’ve been sneaking home to watch the children. It takes a lot out of me, but it’s worth it. How did we make such beautiful children? Our best trick. I’m so sorry for leaving you alone with them. There’s no sleight of hand that will get us out of this one. I know my body’s never leaving this hospital.

I have no more warnings for you, my husband, my one true love. No more advice, except this—be happy. You were always better at it than I was.

I think I’m going to go for a swim now.

Love,

Mo

P.S.

Sooner or later you’re going to have to tell the kids they’re not Greek.

“Like hell,” Teddy said.

He didn’t try to get up. He let the weight of years roll over him and hold him there.

He wiped old man’s tears from his cheek, coughed to clear his throat. There were people to see, games to finish. He dialed open the closet safe and placed this final letter atop the stack.

Matty was waiting for him in the living room. He looked nervous.

“Don’t worry, kid,” Teddy told him. “You’re going to do fine. You’re a Telemachus.”

Matty grinned shyly. “Descendant of demigods.”

“Yeah, well, don’t believe everything you hear.”

He drove down Route 83, toward Mount Prospect. After a while he said, “So, Matty, when you’re up there, flying around, have you ever seen anyone?”

“What do you mean?”

“Other minds. Spirits, maybe. Souls.”