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never said anything about it. It’s like the actual death never
happened. When I first met him, he didn’t want to talk about it. And later on,
I think he just forgot she was dead. He always asked where she was.”
    “But he never said anything about his sons?” Liam asked.
    “Nothing about his sons,” she said with a shrug. She left
out the part about the boy and the suitcase and the rest of his crazy ramblings
before he died. It would only muddy the situation, and this situation
definitely didn’t need any more muddying.
    “Have you seen any pictures of her?”
    “Only one.” She got out of the chair and disappeared down
the hallway. She went into her room and dug through a box of belongings she had
marked with an X, the things she intended to take with. She couldn’t bring
herself to throw away the picture of Helen and Jack. Somehow, she thought
disposing the picture would erase the existence of Helen and Jack’s love.
    She returned with the framed picture and handed it to Liam. “Here.
It’s yours. Keep it.”
    “Helen and Jack,” he said, turning over the picture in his
hands. “My biological parents.”
    Charla sat down next to him and looked at the picture. They
were both beautiful, young and full of life. “I can see you in Jack. You
definitely have the same hair. The same eyes.”
    “Yeah, I guess I can see myself a little,” he said, turning
over the frame in his hands. He began to bend the clips in the back. “It’s
strange to think my dad was only thirty minutes away. I wonder if our paths
ever crossed. I could’ve passed right by him and never known he was my father.”
He popped off the cardboard backing to pull out the picture. A small, thin
piece of paper fluttered out.
    “What’s that?” she asked.
    “It looks like a receipt from a restaurant,” he replied,
taking the paper in his hand. “It’s from 1989.”
    “A first date maybe?” She shrugged her shoulders.
    “Maybe,” he said, turning it over.
    “Jack could be sweet when he wanted to be,” Charla said,
taking a drink. Somehow the bottle was half gone already. She had grown
accustom to drinking Guinness regularly, although prior to moving in with Jack,
she had despised most beer and alcohol in general. With an alcoholic mother,
avoidance seemed like the best route. She had to limit Jack’s intake by hiding
beer in the garage. He’d always forget he had one and always asked for more,
even after she showed him the empty bottles. The role was a familiar one for
her, except this time around, Jack had an excuse. Her mother didn’t.
    Liam pulled out the photo, running his finger along the
edges before tucking it back into place. He set the receipt on next and then
placed the cardboard backing on top, folding over the tabs. He turned it around
and gave it another look before setting it on the couch next to him.
    “I should check in at the bar,” he said, pulling out his
phone. “What’s your number, by the way? I want to be able to call you if I have
any questions about Jack.”
    “Is that your sly way of asking me for my number?” she
asked. “You could have just asked without pulling the whole I have to call
the bar thing.”
    “Well, I didn’t know if you’d want to give me your number
after pushing me away,” he said, holding his finger poised over the keypad. She
recited her number, watching as he punched it in. “And I really do need to call
the bar. Do you mind if I take it outside?”
    “Not at all,” she replied as he stood up. “The reception’s
better outside anyway.” He disappeared through the front door and stood on the
front porch even though the rain had stopped. She watched the glow of his cell
phone light up the darkness. She smoothed out her dress and tucked her hair
behind her ear.
    Damn it, she chided herself. She didn’t know why she
even cared what she looked like. Nothing was going to happen between them.
    He walked back through the door, letting it slam behind him.
“I’ve got to