Lucas liebte dieses Foto, weil er sie fast hören konnte.
Er wartete, bis die Leute anfingen zu gehen.
Dann tauchte Mara auf und trug eine Stofftasche.
Sie trug unter ihrem Wollmantel einen grünen Pullover.
She spotted him beside his car.
Her expression tightened.
For one awful moment, Lucas thought she would run.
Instead, she approached slowly.
“You found me.”
“I did.”
“Are you following me?”
“No.
A friend found your name on the art center website.
I’m sorry.”
“You should have called.”
“I didn’t have your number.”
Mara studied him.
Then she took a breath.
“My doctor says I should hear what you have to say.”
Lucas felt a painful surge of hope.
“Does that mean you believe me?”
“It means I want answers.”
“That’s fair.”
She glanced toward a bench near the entrance.
“We can talk there.”
They sat several feet apart.
For a while, neither spoke.
Lucas had imagined their reunion a thousand times.
He had never imagined needing to introduce himself.
“My name is Lucas Reed,” he began.
“I’m forty-two.
I own a garage outside Lancaster.
We were married for six years before your accident.”
Mara listened quietly.
“We met at a county fair,” he continued.
“You were working at a booth raising money for the animal shelter.
I spilled lemonade on your shoes.”
Despite herself, Mara smiled.
“That’s not a very impressive beginning.”
“I know.
I spent the next twenty minutes trying to convince you I was usually more graceful.”
“Were you?”
“Absolutely not.”
A tiny laugh escaped her.
The sound nearly undid him.
He looked away.
She noticed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“You keep looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m hurting you.”
Lucas swallowed.
“It’s not your fault.”
He placed the photograph on the bench between them.
Mara picked it up.
Her expression changed.
She touched the bride’s face.
Then the groom’s.
“You look younger.”
“I was twenty-nine.”
“And that’s me?”
“Yes.”
She studied the picture for a long time.
Finally, she asked, “Was I happy?”
Lucas felt tears rise.
“Very.”
“Are you sure?”
He looked at her.
She seemed almost embarrassed by the question.
“People can look happy in photographs,” she said.
“That doesn’t mean they are.”
Lucas’s heart twisted.
“You were happy,” he answered.
“Not every minute.
We argued over money and whose turn it was to buy groceries.
You used to get furious when I left greasy handprints on the refrigerator.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
He smiled.
“But yes.
You were happy.”
Mara turned the photograph over.
Something was written on the back.
Her own handwriting.
If the lights go out, I’ll still find you. — E
She stared at the words.
Her breathing changed.
“Mara?”
She pressed her fingers against her temple.
“I know that sentence.”
Lucas went rigid.
“What?”
“I don’t know why.”
She looked up.
“Tell me about the little boy.”
Lucas almost stopped breathing.
“What little boy?”
Her voice trembled.
“The one I keep dreaming about.”
“Ben.”
She closed her eyes.
The name seemed to strike something deep inside her.
“Ben,” she repeated.
Lucas took out his phone.
He opened a photograph of their son.
Ben at eleven, standing beside his science fair project.
Mara looked at it.
Nothing happened at first.
Then Lucas swiped to an older picture.
Ben at four.
Wearing green dinosaur pajamas.
Ich stehe neben Elena im Garten.
Seine kleinen Arme hatten sich um ihre Beine geschlungen.
Mara stieß einen Laut aus, den Lucas nie vergessen würde.
Es war nicht wirklich ein Schrei.
Es klang wie etwas, das aufbrach.
Sie riss das Telefon an sich.
„Oh Gott.“
Lucas beugte sich zu ihr vor.
“Bald?”
Sie starrte den Jungen an.
„Ich habe ihn gesehen.“
Lucas’ Herz hämmerte.
„In deinen Träumen?“
Sie schüttelte den Kopf.
„Nicht nur Träume.“
“Wie meinst du das?”
Tränen begannen über ihre Wangen zu rollen.
„Ich höre ihn manchmal weinen.“
Lucas erstarrte.
„Was sagt er?“
Sie drückte das Telefon an ihre Brust.
„Mama, geh nicht.“
Lucas hatte das Gefühl, als hätte jemand in ihn hineingegriffen und sein Herz gequetscht.
„Das war das Letzte, was Ben zu dir gesagt hat.“
Mara sah ihn an.
„Er war bei unserem Nachbarn.“
Du wolltest dich mit jemandem treffen.
Er wollte, dass du bleibst und ihm noch eine Geschichte vorliest.“
Ihr Gesicht verzog sich.
„Ich erinnere mich an eine kleine Hand.“
Lucas nickte hilflos.
„Du hast versprochen, vor dem Schlafengehen wieder zu Hause zu sein.“
Sie begann zu zittern.
Lucas griff nach ihr, hielt dann aber inne.
Er hatte vergessen, dass er sie nicht mehr ohne Erlaubnis berühren durfte.
„Mara, kann ich –“
Sie griff zuerst nach ihm.
Ihre Finger schlossen sich um sein Handgelenk.
Im selben Moment, als sich ihre Haut berührte, stieß sie einen überraschten Laut aus.
Eine Erinnerung überkam sie.
Keine vollständige Erinnerung.
Ein Fragment.
Sonnenlicht, das auf einen Küchentisch fällt.
Popular Posts
→- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
Recently Viewed
Stories you read recently will appear here.
