''I get it,'' he said, ''the sun so loved the moon...''
His voice trailed off. We both knew the story. We knew it all too well. He was looking at me thoughtfully. I, however, turned away.
''What if,'' I began, ''the sun didn't want to die for the m...
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Delia Joy was a model patient. She never missed a mealtime. She played games with the other patients and would even make friends with them. She would greet each of her orderlies respectfully in the morning and wish them goodnight before she went to bed. She never stayed awake past the lights out curfew. She would fall asleep soundly every night-
And wake up the next morning and remember nothing of her children and husband she'd had before her time in the hospital.
The doctors, once we'd explained that Delia was Tucker's mother, stated that they believed the mix of her retrograde and anterograde amnesia to be due to some kind of head trauma that damaged the part of her brain that created and stored memories. Tucker and I both knew that wasn't true.
I knew my father was responsible. I just didn't know how he was capable of something so huge. I couldn't undo his work alone, so how had he done it?
Delia sat across from me and she was calmer than the last time I'd seen her with her sons. Tucker sat beside me, stiff as a board and barely breathing. Neither of us tried to tell her about her old life. Instead, we tried to get her to tell us anything and everything she remembered or thought about. Of course, I did most of the talking- all of the talking actually.
"I'm quite good at chess, you know," she said with a proud smile. Behind her smile, I recognized bits of Owein's haughtiness. It seemed the pompous nature of the Heigl's was a family trait.
"They have a board here. We can play if you like?"
I glanced at Tucker out of the corner of my eye. She was looking at him- not me. His fist tightened but fixed his face into a polite smile. He nodded. She grinned widely and stood from the couch to retrieve the chess set in the recreation room. While she was gone, Tucker looked at me and reached out for my hand.
"How are you doing?" I asked.
"It's weird," he began, "she's so different now. You should've seen her before, Lou. You would've liked her. She didn't take anybody's shit- sort of like somebody else I know."
I rolled my eyes. "I don't take any shit, because I've got enough of my own."
He laughed a little, leaning back in his chair. By now, I knew him better than to be fooled by his relaxed posture. The set of his shoulders, the clench in his jaw, and the tapping of his thumb on his jeans they all told a different story.
"You're doing wonderfully," I reassured him, squeezing his hand in response.
Delia returned with the board and I watched Tucker interact with the woman in front of him. I was mesmerized at the game that they were playing. I'd never learned how to play chess and it seemed that both Delia and Tucker were evenly matched for each other in both strategy and viciousness of gameplay. Her gray eyes flicked up to meet his with a challenging smile on her face.
