Chapter 10
After Ayara left, the house felt quieter than it had before she arrived.
Oren sat back down at the table, the chair creaking under him. He replayed their earlier conversation without meaning to. Thought about how easily some memories had come. How others had thinned out the moment he tried to reach them.
He tried to picture being small. Tried to imagine a room from that height. A hand reaching down. Someone calling his name.
Nothing came.
He could list the years, the schools, the addresses, stories, but none of it came with an image. Like reading a book from someone else’s life.
Oren leaned back and stared at the ceiling. The house made its usual night sounds: the refrigerator kicking on, the clock ticking down the hall, a car moving past on the road. Everything was where it always was.
Everything still felt solid.
He just didn’t know anymore how much of it was actually holding him up.
Oren lay there long enough for his eyes to lose focus, the edges of the room softening as his thoughts thinned out. When his mother appeared in the doorway, the light behind her dimmer than before, it took him a second to place the time. The house felt later, quieter, as if most of it had already gone to sleep.
“You’re still up,” she said.
“Yeah, just finishing some things.”
She leaned against the doorframe, arms folded loosely. “Don’t stay up too late.”
“I won’t,” he said. “Just thinking.”
She nodded, moving into the kitchen. He heard the tap run, then the soft clink of a glass being set on the counter. She came back with water, setting it on the table in front of him.
His mom glanced at the papers on the table. “How’s tutoring going?”
“Great, actually. She’s really good.”
His mother smiled. “Good. I’m glad it’s working out.”
He thought for a moment, then kept his voice light, almost offhand. “Do you remember what I was like when I was really little?”
His mom didn’t answer right away. She looked at him, as if the question had surprised her slightly.
“Well, lots of things,” she said. “You were such a good baby. Very calm.”
“What’s the first thing, though? The very first memory you have of me.”
“Well, bringing you home was wonderful. You fit right in.”
“But what was it like? Was I fussy? Did I cry a lot?”
“You were very easy,” she said. “Honestly, Oren, it was so long ago. The details blur together.”
“How about when I started school?”
“Why all the questions tonight?”
“Because I don’t really remember any of it,” he said. “Like, I know things, but I don’t remember them.”
His mother gently waved a hand, as if brushing something out of the air. “That’s normal.”
“It is?“
“Of course. Most people don’t remember much before four or five.”
Oren frowned because couldn’t envision any part of his life beyond his late teens. “Some people do.”
She tilted her head. “Some people say they do.”
“I was talking about it with Ayara,” he said. “Earlier.”
She frowned. “That’s not really something you need to get into with your tutor.”
Oren blinked. “I wasn’t getting into it.”
“I know,” she said. “I just mean, it seems a bit personal.”
“We were just talking after.”
“We’re paying her to help you with school,” his mother insisted.
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
“I know. I’m just saying.” She stood. “You should get some sleep. You look exhausted.”
“Yeah. In a minute.”
She paused at the doorway. “Oren?”
“Yeah?”
“You had a happy childhood. That’s what matters.”
“I know,” he said. “Goodnight, Mom.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
She left. He heard her footsteps fade down the hallway. A door closed.
Oren leaned back in his chair.
Because she’d told him he was a good baby. That bringing him home was wonderful, that he fit right in.
But she didn’t tell him what she remembered.