The old building’s stairwell was narrow and dim, lit by a tall window at the landing. Mason descended quickly, but instead of leaving, he pushed through the front entrance and stood beneath the stone archway outside.
The street still shone from the morning rain.
Across the road, the Limmat River moved steadily between rows of old buildings. A tram passed at the end of the block, its windows glowing gold against the gray sky.
Henry remained several feet away.
Mason stared at the river.
“My whole life,” he said, “people have decided what I can handle.”
Henry shifted Nora higher on his shoulder.
“My mother didn’t tell me she was getting worse because I had exams. My grandmother tells me everything is fine because she doesn’t want me to worry. Teachers arrange meetings about my future when I’m standing right outside the door.”
He looked back at the building.
“And Claire prepared papers about where I should live without asking me.”
“She may have intended to ask.”
“She ran out of time.”
“Yes.”
Mason rubbed the frayed strap of his backpack between his fingers.
“That keeps happening.”
Henry waited.
Mason’s voice dropped. “People run out of time, and I’m left with whatever they decided was best.”
Nora made a small, restless sound. Henry placed one hand against her back, rocking her carefully.
“I have the opposite problem,” he said.
Mason glanced at him.
“People expect me to decide everything. Sometimes I make a decision simply because everyone is waiting for one.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“It can be.”
Mason almost smiled, but the expression disappeared.
Henry looked toward the river.
“When Claire told me she was pregnant, I immediately started planning. Doctors. Security. Schools. A larger house, even though we already had more rooms than we used.”
“Did she tell you to stop?”
“Frequently.”
“What did she want?”
“She wanted me to sit beside her and be happy.”
Mason studied him.
“Did you?”
“Eventually.”
The confession left Henry feeling unexpectedly exposed.
“I thought planning was how I protected people,” he continued. “Claire understood that sometimes planning is simply another way to avoid being frightened.”
Mason’s gaze moved to Nora.
“Are you frightened now?”
“Constantly.”
The answer came so quickly that Mason blinked.
Henry looked down at his daughter.
“I’m afraid I’ll hold her wrong. Feed her wrong. Miss something important. I’m afraid she’ll grow up knowing her mother only through stories, and I’ll tell the stories badly.”
“You won’t.”
“You’ve known me for less than a day.”
“I’ve seen the way you look at her.”
Henry had no response to that.
Mason turned back toward the building.
“If I say no to the guardianship, what happens?”
“I don’t know.”
