Chapter 23: What Remains

She had a conversation with Theo in the summer of the fourth year that she had been moving toward for a long time. Not about dying. They had had that conversation in parts, in the way that conversations about difficult things happened — incrementally, never quite fully, the full version approached and approached and never quite reached because the approaching was doing the work. About the house. 'I want you to know what I was thinking when I came back,' she said. 'What I was intending.' 'The renovation.' 'The renovation was the task. But what I was intending was—' She looked at the kitchen. At the light she had restored to her mother's vision. 'I wanted to give you something that lasted. Something I made that would still be here. The buildings I've designed will outlast me. This house will outlast me. I wanted to do the work of making it right before I— before.' Theo was quiet. 'You did,' he said. 'I know. But I also did something I didn't plan to do. I stayed.' She looked at him. 'And staying was better than finishing and leaving. I thought the work was the thing. The staying turned out to be the thing.' 'You always think the work is the thing,' he said, gently. 'I know. It's a flaw I came back to fix.' 'You fixed it.' She wasn't certain of this. But she appreciated that he was. 'The house is yours,' she said. 'When it's time. It's already yours — you've been filling the feeder since she died. But I mean it completely. Keep the garden. Keep the kitchen light. Keep the porch.' 'I will,' he said. 'And Justin knows the maintenance,' she said. 'He knows everything about this house. Ask him.' Theo looked at her. 'I'll ask him,' he said. 'He'll be here anyway.' She thought that was true.