Chapter 3 - The Number on the Photograph
Nicole didn't sleep that night.
The wedding dress had been folded and returned to the blue tin box.
The letter lay on her bedroom desk.
The photograph sat beside her phone.
Every few minutes, she picked it up and examined the numbers written on the back.
Ten digits.
A phone number.
She wanted to call.
She was afraid to call.
By midnight, she had entered the number into her phone six times without pressing the button.
At one in the morning, Marcus knocked softly.
"Nicole?"
She didn't answer.
He opened the door just enough to look inside.
"Can we talk?"
Nicole kept her eyes on the photograph.
"Did you know Mom was alive?"
Marcus stood in the doorway.
"Yes."
The word hurt more than she expected.
"Did you know where she lived?"
"Not exactly."
"But you knew she was out there."
"Yes."
Nicole turned toward him.
"Then why did you act like she was gone forever?"
Marcus stepped into the room.
"Because after the divorce, everything became difficult. Your mother and I couldn't agree on anything."
"That's not an answer."
He stopped.
Nicole had never spoken to him quite like that before.
Marcus lowered himself into the chair beside her desk.
"You're right."
For several seconds, he stared at the carpet.
Then he spoke.
"Your mother and I were exhausted by the time we separated. We were arguing about money, work, and where you would live. I thought if I could keep your life steady, things would get better."
Nicole held the photograph tighter.
"And did they?"
"For a while, I thought so."
He swallowed.
"When your mother missed two visits because her work schedule changed, you cried all night. You started asking whether she loved you."
Nicole remembered those evenings.
She remembered pretending to sleep so her father wouldn't hear her crying.
Marcus continued.
"I was angry with Ava. I thought she was making promises she couldn't keep. So I told her to give you space."
"But you told her I didn't want to see her."
He looked away.
"Yes."
"Why?"
His eyes filled.
"Because I was afraid you'd keep waiting for someone who might disappoint you."
Nicole stared at him.
"So you decided I shouldn't have a mother at all?"
Marcus flinched.
"No. I never wanted that."
"But that's what happened."
He had no answer.
Nicole looked down at the letter.
For years, Marcus had been the dependable parent.
The one who attended school meetings.
The one who waited outside dance rehearsals.
The one who made pancakes on Sunday mornings.
She loved him.
That didn't make what he'd done less painful.
"Dad, I need you to leave."
He nodded slowly.
"Okay."
At the doorway, he turned.
"I am sorry, Nicole."
She didn't respond.
After he left, Nicole sat quietly until the first gray light appeared outside her window.
Then she picked up the phone.
She entered the number.
This time, she pressed CALL.
It rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
A woman answered.
"Hello?"
Nicole's breath caught.
The voice was softer than she remembered.
But something about it was familiar.
"Hello?" the woman repeated.
Nicole tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
"Can I help you?"
Nicole closed her eyes.
"Is this Ava Monroe?"
A pause.
"Yes. Who's calling?"
Nicole's hand began trembling.
"My name is Nicole."
Silence.
Then she heard a sharp intake of breath.
"Nicole?"
She began crying.
"Mom?"
A sound came through the phone.
Not quite a sob.
Not quite a laugh.
"Oh, my baby."
Nicole pressed the phone against her ear.
"Is it really you?"
"It's me, sweetheart. It's really me."
For several seconds, neither could speak.
Then Ava asked the question Nicole had been waiting years to answer.
"Are you okay?"
Nicole looked around her bedroom.
At the photographs.
At the childhood trophies.
At the house where she'd grown up.
"I don't know."
Ava's voice shook.
"That's all right."
Nicole wiped her eyes.
"I found your letter."
Another silence.
"The one I gave Tessa?"
"Yes."
"She gave it to you?"
Nicole stared at the blue tin box.
"No. I found it."
Ava didn't speak.
Nicole heard a quiet movement on the other end of the line.
Then a chair creaked.
"Oh, Nicole."
"Mom, why didn't you call me?"
"I tried, sweetheart."
"For how long?"
"For years. But eventually I was told you needed me to stop."
"Who told you?"
Ava hesitated.
"At first, your father."
Nicole closed her eyes.
"And later?"
Ava answered quietly.
"Tessa."
Nicole sat up.
"What?"
"When your father remarried, I thought there might be a way for us to talk without fighting. Tessa and I had known each other before. She understood what had happened."
Nicole stared at her bedroom door.
"She told you I didn't want to talk?"
"She said you were still hurting. She told me not to rush you."
Nicole felt sick.
"Mom, I asked about you all the time."
Ava began crying again.
"I didn't know that."
"I thought you didn't want me."
"Oh, sweetheart. I wanted you every day."
Nicole covered her mouth.
Ava continued.
"But I need to tell you something else. I should have kept trying to reach you directly. I should have found another way instead of trusting other people to speak for us."
Nicole listened.
For the first time, an adult was admitting that love and good intentions had not been enough.
"I don't want to lose you again," Ava said.
Nicole wiped her face.
"Then don't disappear."
"I won't."
"Promise?"
"I promise to keep showing up. Even when the conversations are hard."
Nicole looked at the photograph.
"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Can I see you?"
Ava's breath caught.
"Whenever you're ready."
Nicole swallowed.
"I think I'm ready."
After they arranged to meet at a café two days later, Nicole ended the call.
She sat motionless for several minutes.
Then she walked downstairs.
Tessa was standing at the kitchen counter, preparing Elijah's breakfast.
She looked up.
"Morning, sweetheart."
Nicole held out the photograph.
"I called her."
Tessa's hand stopped moving.
Nicole watched her face change.
"She told me what you said."
Tessa set down the knife she was holding.
"Nicole—"
"You told my mother I didn't want her."
Tessa closed her eyes.
May you like
Nicole stepped closer.
"Why would you do that to me?"
