My mother asked me a question at dinner one night.
"Are you happy?"
We were sitting in her dining room, eating roast chicken and potatoes, the way we did every Sunday. The candles were lit. The wine was poured. The conversation had been light.
But then she asked.
"I'm happy," I said.
"Really? You're not just saying that?"
"I'm really happy."
She set down her fork. "I worry about you. You're alone."
"I'm not alone. I have Elara. I have Theo. I have you."
"That's not what I mean."
"I know what you mean."
She sighed. "I just want you to have what I had. What your grandmother had. A partner. Someone to grow old with."
"I had that. For three hours. It didn't work out."
She didn't laugh. She didn't smile. She just looked at me with those eyes that had seen everything.
"I'm not sayi
