Chapter 83 Bonus Chapter 11: The Photograph He Stole

Chapter 83 Bonus Chapter 11: The Photograph He Stole
2019 · Winter
When Mason was fourteen, Nathan went to a class reunion and came home drunk.
He almost never drank. Mason had barely seen him touch alcohol. There were a few bottles of red wine in the cabinet at home, all of them covered in dust, none of them ever opened. Nathan said alcohol was bad for the brain. He had undergone brain surgery, so he could not touch it.
But that night, he had.
Two men Mason didn’t know brought him home.
Mason helped them get Nathan onto the bed.
Nathan was heavy. Much heavier than usual, like a log that had soaked up water until it could barely be moved. Mason used every bit of strength in his body just to drag him from the entryway to the bedroom.
He poured Nathan a glass of water and set it on the nightstand.
Nathan lay on the bed, turning restlessly from side to side, murmuring something under his breath.
Mason leaned closer to listen.
“Can’t find her… I can’t find her anywhere…”
“Chloe… where are you…”
“I can’t find you… What am I supposed to do…”
His voice was very low, as if it had traveled from somewhere terribly far away. It carried a fatigue so deep it sounded like a man who had walked for too long and, at last, could not take another step.
Mason stood there with the water glass in his hand, staring at him.
All at once, he remembered what Alvin had said.
Your mother risked her life to give birth to you.
Then he remembered what Samantha had said.
Your mother didn’t want you.
Which one was true?
He didn’t know.
All he knew was that Nathan was hurting.
Because of the woman named Chloe.
The woman on the grave he visited every month.
The woman he called his sister.
Mason set the glass down on the nightstand and went back to his room.
From the deepest part of his drawer, he pulled out a photograph.
He had stolen it from one of Nathan’s photo albums. Nathan had several albums, stacked in perfect order on the highest shelf of the bookcase. One afternoon, when Nathan wasn’t home, Mason had dragged over a chair and gone through them one by one.
Most of the photos made no sense to him.
But this one, he understood.
In the photo, a young man and a young woman stood hand in hand, smiling brilliantly.
The man was Nathan. A younger Nathan. He wore a white shirt, his hair was thicker, there were no lines on his face, and his eyes were bright enough to look like stars.
Mason didn’t know the woman.
But her smile was sweet, her eyes curved like crescent moons. Her hair was golden brown, a little messy from the wind, but she didn’t seem to care. She was standing on tiptoe, as if she were whispering some secret into Nathan’s ear.
Mason guessed that was Chloe.
He stared at the photograph for a long time.
Outside the window, the night was deep. There was no moon. Only the distant light pollution of the city stained the sky a murky orange. Every so often, a car passed below, its headlights flashing across the curtains like a falling star.
“Where are you?” he whispered.
The people in the photograph did not answer.
Only silence.
Endless silence.
Like that night.
Like every night Nathan had lived through for twenty-three years.
Mason pressed the photograph against his chest and closed his eyes.
He hoped that one day, he would find the answer.
Not for himself.
For Nathan.
2025 · Summer
The woman first appeared in Nathan’s mouth.
“Mason, your sister came back.”
It was a Saturday. Mason was doing homework in the living room. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, drawing a bright square across the floor. Outside, birds chattered sharply, like they were arguing over something important and deeply stupid.
Nathan came out of the study holding an old photo album.
His expression was calm, but there was a light in his eyes.
A light Mason had not seen in years.
“Sister?” Mason put down his pen.
“Mm. Chloe. She came back.”
Mason looked into Nathan’s eyes.
There was light there.
Like someone who had walked through darkness for too long and finally seen a door opening ahead.
He didn’t know how else to describe it.
He only felt that Nathan had suddenly become twenty years younger.
“When is she coming over?” Mason asked.
“In a few days.”
“Okay.”
Mason did not ask for details.
Because he knew that when Nathan said came back, it might not be real.
Over the years, Nathan’s hallucinations had grown worse.
Sometimes he spoke to empty air in a voice so gentle it sounded as if he were coaxing a child.
Sometimes he got up in the middle of the night and stood by the window, staring at the street outside, murmuring, “Why isn’t she here yet? Didn’t she say she was coming home today?”
Sometimes he suddenly called Dawn, his tone sharp and impatient. “Stop looking for me. Chloe will be upset.”
The doctors said it was damage from the brain injury compounded by years of prolonged mental strain.
It couldn’t be cured.
Only controlled with medication.
But the medication came with side effects. Dizziness. Drowsiness. Slowed reactions. It was like soaking a person in warm water until every sensation dulled. Nathan hated taking it. He said it made his brain feel “stuffed with cotton.”
He needed a clear mind.
Because he was waiting for Chloe to come back.
Mason could not bear to force him.
So when Nathan said, “Your sister came back,” Mason chose to play along.
He pretended to believe him.
Pretended Chloe had really returned.
Pretended this family was finally whole.
Because this was Nathan’s last light.
If that light went out, Nathan would have nothing left.
The first time Chloe appeared was at a restaurant.
Nathan took Mason out to eat and said Chloe was there too.
Mason remembered that day clearly, because Nathan changed clothes several times before leaving the house. First, he put on a dark blue sweater, looked at himself in the mirror, frowned, and took it off. Then he changed into a gray turtleneck, checked again, and still wasn’t satisfied. In the end, he put on a white dress shirt, rolled the sleeves to his forearms, and stood in front of the mirror for a long time.
Then he turned and asked Mason, “Do I look all right?”
Mason nodded.
Nathan smiled faintly.
That smile was soft, almost shy, like a boy on his way to see the girl he loved.
Mason’s nose suddenly stung.
He thought of the photograph of young Nathan.