We Didn't Make It After All

Chapter Eleven

Lost in the amber of our moments, we told ourselves that the truth could wait until the end of the holiday season. We wanted nothing more than to forget, even if for a fleeting day or two, that we were not living in a town plagued by Edem Whittaker's vices.

I thought about taking Ezra home for our holiday dinner, teasing him with the possibility of it when we were supposed to be revising each other's essays in Pierre-Louis' eight a.m. His eyes brightened all at once. "I'll be there, Narnie."

It hurt to see how much he missed his family. He spent the remainder of class going through photo albums on his laptop, pretending he was taking notes.

He arrived at the door at seven holding a gift bag. Inside it, Nana found a book of poetry by Geoffrey Chaucer, who by a kind twist of fate was her favorite author.

"You didn't have to, Ezra," she said modestly.

"It's my pleasure, Ms. Larson."

"Call me Sofia," she said. She scanned the book as he hung his jacket on the coat hanger by our door.

He treaded towards the kitchen, where I was. "It smells so lovely, Sofia."

"Don't praise me. Praise Narnie. She made salmon teriyaki."

"I haven't had salmon teriyaki since last May," he said quietly. Since last May, when his mother had passed away. I let the topic dwindle.

Nana placed Ezra's gift by the fireplace and led him to the dining room, where the table had been set for three. Where I had set a plate for Mama, it was no longer there. I glanced at Nana, seeing that her eyes were already on me. "Mama isn't joining us?"

A weak smile overtook her face. "In her office."

I ignored my frustration as we sat down. How lucky was I, that along with a dead father, I had to reckon with an absent mother? Ezra must have noticed my frustration because he slipped his hand onto my thigh, squeezing it.

"We moved to Holden during the war, you know," Nana said as we began eating. "One of the main tenets of the local religion was its rejection of war. The abbot had always been very powerful. He made sure everyone who lived in the district and abided by the religion was exempt from the draft. Your grandfather and I came because we didn't know how long it would last. We wanted to protect our kids.

"Some people saw it as unjust, but he upheld the exemption using the first amendment. And people eventually gave up with justice the way they always do and began seeing it as an opportunity to save themselves. No one wanted to go to Vietnam. So Holden became more and more occupied. I remember, at the peak of the war, it was the most expensive district in the country."

"It's a little tragic," Ezra said. "How the only ones who could save themselves were the ones with money."

Nana nodded wistfully. "Yes, dear, we were very fortunate."

"Is there a reason you didn't go back to San City? You know, after the war?"

"We fell in love with the place—with its rolling hills, its rich culture. It reminded Terrace, my husband, of our honeymoon in Slovenia. It's a beautiful place, isn't it?"

"It really is."

I smiled. Mr. Ezra Parker, who wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of this town, agreeing that it was a beautiful place? I would never let him live that one down.

As I finished my dinner to a conversation between my favorite people in the world, the feeling crept up on me again that I was a part of a family. I told myself that the only person who could complete this table was Mama—and Papa, if he was still here—but maybe it was time for me to accept that he was gone. Or that he had never left. And maybe he never would, not as long as he was alive in my memory.