He nodded toward Ellie.
“You have a daughter now. Someone else is watching over you.”
I laughed through my tears.
Then Ellie stepped closer.
“Mom?”
I wiped my eyes.
“Yeah?”
“Who’s Adam?”
I looked at her.
For years, I had avoided that question before she ever had the chance to ask it.
But now, I didn’t want to.
I wanted her to know.
“He was my brother.”
Ellie looked at Ben.
“Did you know him?”
Ben smiled.
“I knew him very well.”
“What was he like?”
I looked at the photograph.
And for the first time in decades, I didn’t think about how Adam died.
I thought about how he lived.
“He was funny,” I said.
“He played music terribly, but he insisted he was good.”
Ellie laughed.
“He sounds funny.”
“He was.”
I told her about the bicycle.
The scraped knees.
The jokes.
The way he used to sneak extra food onto my plate.
