I turned the cassette over in my hand.
A small plastic object.
A whole lifetime trapped inside it.
“What did my mother say?”
Douglas’s eyes filled.
“She said she had intercepted almost every letter between us after I left for college.”
That part no longer surprised me.
“She thought you would ruin your life waiting for me,” he continued. “She believed you were supposed to leave town, go to university, become someone important.”
I almost laughed.
“My mother had a very specific idea of important.”
“I remember.”
He looked toward the window.
“Apparently, she also thought I was going nowhere.”
“You were nineteen.”
“My father worked at the mill. I didn’t have money. I didn’t come from the family she wanted for you.”
I swallowed.
It sounded exactly like my mother.
She had never been cruel to Douglas directly.
That had almost made it worse.
She smiled at him.
