Chapter 8 - “YOU LAUGHED TOO.”
Alexander did not speak for several seconds.
Helga regretted the sentence almost immediately.
Not because it was untrue.
Because truth could be accurate and still unnecessarily cruel.
Alexander sat across from her holding the small recorder in one hand.
"What do you mean?"
Helga looked toward the kitchen window.
Outside, a delivery truck blocked half the street while somebody leaned on a horn behind it.
Ordinary noise.
She preferred it to the perfect quiet of Alexander's house.
"I mean I stopped telling you things."
"Because of Bianca?"
"Because of you."
He looked hurt.
Helga forced herself not to rescue him from that feeling.
"When?"
She smiled sadly.
"You're doing the list again."
"I need examples."
"You need one."
"Fine."
Helga thought.
Then she chose the one she had never forgotten.
"Your Christmas party."
"The wine?"
"No."
Alexander waited.
"The coat."
His face showed no recognition.
Of course.
"It was cold," Helga said. "I wore that old brown wool coat."
"The one with the wooden buttons?"
"Yes."
"You still have that?"
"No."
"Good."
She almost laughed.
"It was ugly."
"It was."
"But it was warm."
Alexander nodded.
"Bianca hated it."
"She hates half my clothes."
"She didn't hide half your clothes."
He stopped.
Helga continued.
"When I arrived, I put it in the front closet."
"Okay."
"Later I saw it on the bench near the laundry room."
Alexander frowned.
"Why?"
"I asked Bianca."
"What did she say?"
"She said the closet was crowded."
Alexander's expression changed.
The same excuse.
Crowded.
Like the entrance.
Helga saw him make the connection.
"Was it?" he asked.
"No."
He looked down.
Helga continued.
"She told me the coat had a chemical smell."
"Did it?"
"No."
Alexander's jaw tightened.
"Then what happened?"
"I said maybe rich wool had better manners."
Despite himself, he smiled.
Helga did too.
"What did Bianca say?"
"Nothing."
"Then?"
"You walked in."
Alexander looked up.
"I did?"
"You asked why my coat was in the laundry hall."
He searched his memory.
Nothing.
Helga could see it.
"I told you Bianca didn't want it in the closet."
"And what did I say?"
Helga hesitated.
Alexander braced.
"You laughed."
His face fell.
"No."
"Yes."
"At you?"
"I don't know."
"Mom."
"You said, 'Bianca and that coat have been fighting for years.'"
Alexander closed his eyes.
He remembered.
Not the exact room.
Not the coat.
But the sentence sounded like something he would say.
A joke to make everyone comfortable.
A joke that asked the injured person to become part of the joke so the person who caused the injury wouldn't feel accused.
Helga watched the realization arrive.
"You laughed too," she said.
Alexander covered his mouth with one hand.
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
"No, I mean—"
"I know what you mean."
He looked at her.
"Why didn't you tell me it hurt you?"
Helga's eyebrows lifted.
"I did."
His face tightened.
"You said, 'It's just a coat.'"
Alexander leaned back.
There were apologies that fixed things.
This was not one of them.
"I'm sorry."
Helga nodded.
He waited.
She did not say it was fine.
It wasn't.
That silence was new between them.
More honest.
Alexander looked at the recorder.
"Is that why you put this under the flowerpot?"
"Partly."
"What was the other part?"
Helga sighed.
"Tuesday."
He waited.
"Bianca invited me to coffee because she wanted to know whether you were giving me money."
"How did she know?"
"I don't know."
"What did she ask?"
"Whether you were helping with my mortgage."
"I've never paid your mortgage."
"I know."
"Did you tell her that?"
"Yes."
"What else?"
"Whether I expected you to pay for repairs."
"I offered."
"I know."
"Did you tell her that?"
"Yes."
Helga leaned forward.
"Then she asked how much you had given me over the last five years."
Alexander stared.
"Why?"
"I asked."
"What did she say?"
"She said couples should know where money goes."
Alexander's face tightened.
"She's not wrong."
"No."
Helga nodded.
"That's why I answered."
He looked surprised.
"You did?"
"I told her I didn't know."
"Because you don't."
"Correct."
"Then?"
"She said that was irresponsible."
Alexander almost smiled.
"She called you irresponsible?"
"She used a nicer voice."
"What did you say?"
"I said if she had concerns about your money, she should talk to you."
"Reasonable."
"I have moments."
He smiled.
Then Helga became serious.
"She asked me if I understood that you and she were trying to build something."
Alexander looked down.
"Our future."
"Yes."
"What did you say?"
"I said I hoped whatever you were building had a front door."
His eyes closed.
Helga waited.
"She knew what you meant."
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
Helga's voice changed slightly.
"She said, 'Maybe you should stop looking for insults everywhere.'"
Alexander stared at her.
There it was again.
Misunderstood.
Too sensitive.
Looking for insults.
All the language he had used without realizing where it came from.
Helga pushed the recorder toward him.
"Listen."
Alexander picked it up.
"Now?"
"Now."
He pressed play.
The earlier recording was mundane at first.
Cups.
Chairs.
Bianca speaking politely.
Then the questions began.
Mortgage.
Repairs.
Money.
Alexander listened without interruption.
Helga's recorded answers were exactly as she had described.
Then Bianca said:
"You have to understand, Alexander and I are trying to build a life."
Helga's recorded voice answered:
"I thought he already had one."
There was a pause.
Bianca:
"You know what I mean."
Helga:
"I do. That's what worries me."
Alexander stopped the recording.
He looked at his mother.
"What did you mean?"
Helga answered plainly.
"I meant I was worried you were becoming embarrassed by the life you had before her."
Alexander stared.
She continued.
"And I was right."
He started to object.
Helga lifted one hand.
"Not because of the house."
He stopped.
"Not because of the clothes. Not because you make more money."
"Then what?"
"Because you started asking me to tolerate things you would never ask Bianca to tolerate."
Alexander looked down.
Helga watched him carefully.
"This is not all her fault."
That surprised him.
Helga continued.
"Bianca said ugly things."
"Yes."
"But she could only do it around me for so long because she knew you would smooth it over."
Alexander said nothing.
His phone buzzed.
A message.
Bianca.
He looked.
CALL ME BEFORE YOU DECIDE I’M A MONSTER.
Alexander stared at the screen.
Then another message arrived.
AND ASK YOUR MOTHER WHY SHE NEVER TOLD YOU SHE WARNED ME TO STAY AWAY FROM YOUR MONEY.
Alexander slowly turned the phone toward Helga.
She read it.
Her expression did not change.
"Did you?" Alexander asked.
Helga nodded.
"Yes."
He stared.
"When?"
"Tuesday."
"What exactly did you say?"
May you like
Helga looked at the recorder in his hand.
"You haven't finished listening."
