He looked at it. His mother. He had not spoken to her today, had been at the Vale house all day, and she had texted at nine: hope you had a good day. dinner in the fridge if you come home tonight. love you x
He typed back: I'll be home tomorrow. Love you too.
He looked at the message for a moment after he sent it.
His mother, who had taken a baby from a woman she barely knew and loved him so completely that it had never once occurred to Eli as a child that there was anything missing. Who worked nights and left dinner in the fridge and knocked on his door the right number of times and had never pushed on the things that were his to carry.
Who had given him, without knowing it, the only real proof that a person could be remade by love if the love was consistent enough.
He put the phone in his pocket.
Irina Vasek had chosen well.
He sat on the roof for a while longer. The city went on below him. He let it.
