Chapter 38 - nora sent carlo one card and feared what came next
Nora knew Carlo had been sick.
We did not hide it.
She was ten.
“Will he die?”
“Probably not right now,” Luca said.
“Everybody dies.”
“Thank you, Maya.”
Maya shrugged.
Accurate.
Nora drew a card.
Front:
A terrible heart.
Inside:
HOPE YOUR HEART WORKS BETTER.
Luca stared.
“That’s what you’re sending?”
“Yes.”
No:
Love.
No:
Great-Uncle Carlo.
No obligation.
They sent it through the lawyer.
Carlo replied with another card.
THANK YOU. IT DOES.
Then beneath:
Your drawing may have frightened it into cooperating.
Nora laughed.
Then became worried.
“Do I have to write again?”
“No.”
“Will he be sad?”
“Maybe.”
Her face tightened.
Luca crouched.
“You are allowed to care if someone is sad.”
“You are not automatically responsible for fixing it.”
That sentence had taken our family generations.
Nora kept the card.
Did not answer.
Carlo sent nothing else.
Three months later she asked:
“Why didn’t he write?”
Luca smiled slightly.
“You asked if you had to keep writing.”
“I said no.”
“He listened.”
Nora looked confused.
“But maybe I wanted him to.”
There.
Boundaries had another complication.
Respecting space could feel like rejection.
Luca explained:
“If you want another letter, you can send one.”
“Then he’ll answer?”
“Probably.”
“That’s weird.”
“Relationships are.”
She wrote:
WHAT FOOD DO YOU HATE?
Carlo replied:
OLIVES. THIS IS MY MOST DEFENSIBLE OPINION.
Nora loved olives.
She immediately wrote:
YOU ARE WRONG.
That became the beginning.
Not weekly.
Not deep.
Three letters one year.
Five the next.
Questions.
Favorite movies.
Worst school subject.
Carlo said math.
Nora accused him of lying because rich people needed math.
He wrote:
That is what accountants are for.
For the first time, Carlo had a relationship with someone younger that did not require obedience.
Nobody called it healing.
May you like
It was letters.
That was safer.
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