I thought it was my father who ruined all her first dates. Then I found the letter my mother had left eight years after her death.
My mother died eight years ago.
For the first three years, Dad didn’t even want to look at another woman.
Then, at 68, he finally started dating women again.
I was happy for him, until I noticed a pattern.
Six women in 18 months.
Each first date took place in the same Italian restaurant, on the other side of town.
And each time, the woman disappeared afterwards.
No second date. No explanation. Most didn’t even answer Dad’s calls.
When the seventh woman cancelled the planned date with him, I’d had enough.
I went to the restaurant all by myself.
The waitress immediately recognized the photo on my phone.
« Oh. Tom. »
« Have you already served it? »
His expression has changed.
« Several times. »
« So tell me, please. What is he doing to these women? »
She stared at me. « Your father? Nothing. »
That was not the answer I was expecting.
She glanced towards the kitchen, then lowered her voice.
« That’s what happens when they ask for the bill. »
She led me to a bench in a corner.
« Your father always sits here. At the same table. In the same chair. »
Then she pointed at the wall behind her.
The wall was covered with photos from the opening night in 1987. Dozens of smiling people stood under strings of lights.
Years later, Dad added one of his own. It showed three young people standing together.
Dad was near the bottom. So was Mom.
But next to them stood another young woman whose face had been almost entirely erased.
I had a knot in my stomach.
« Who is she? »
The waitress did not respond.
Instead, she reached under the bench seat and pulled out a small envelope sealed with tape.
My name was written on it.
« Rachel. »
I froze. « How long has it been there? »
« Your father puts a new one here before each appointment. »
Before I could touch it, someone behind me said, « Please don’t open that. »
I turned around.
The woman standing near the bar looked to be about 65 years old. Silver hair, blue coat, both hands gripping her handbag.
I looked back and forth between the woman and the photograph.
Same thin jaw. Same deep-set eyes.
Even through the scratches, I knew it was her.
« You were here last night, » I told him.
She nodded.
« You’re the woman who cancelled the date with Dad. »
« He met me. It wasn’t a date. »
The waitress moved away discreetly.
I watched it.
« So, who are you? »
The woman glanced at the photo. « My name is Helene. »
« How do you know my father? »
« For longer than you’ve been alive. »
« So you were together. »
Hélène’s expression hardly changed. « No. We were never together. »
« Don’t lie to me. »
« I’m not lying. »
« You were by his side in 1987. Your face has been erased. He’s been bringing women here for 18 months, and suddenly you’re sitting across from him. »
« It wasn’t a date. »
« So what was it? »
Hélène looked at the envelope. « Your father was asking me if eight years was long enough. » She pulled up the chair in front of me and gestured for me to sit down.
« No. You can tell me standing up. »
She watched me for a few seconds.
Then she said, « It was your mother who chose all the women your father dated. »
I laughed once, because that sentence was absurd.
« Mom has been dead for eight years. »
» I know. «
« Then start again. »
Hélène opened her handbag and took out a yellowed sheet of paper, folded in half.
She didn’t hand it to me. She placed it on the table between us.
At the top, you could recognize my mother’s handwriting.
« Tom, »
« If you’re reading this, it means you’ve finally ignored me long enough to open the blue box. »
My knees began to buckle.
I sat down.
« There are others, » said Helen.
« Others what? »
« Pages. »
« Where? »
« Your father has them. »
I reached for the paper.
Hélène placed her hand on the page that separated us.
« Rachel, your mother had been ill for almost two years before you realized the seriousness of the situation. »
I remembered those months.
My mother said she was tired. My mother refused to go on vacation. My mother told me the treatment was working when it wasn’t.
When she finally admitted that she was dying, we only had 11 weeks left.
« Did you know that? »
Hélène nodded.
« Before Dad? »
« Before you two. »
I got up from the table. « Were you his doctor? »
» No. «
« Then why would she have told you about it? »
Helen looked at the damaged photo.
« Because I was her best friend. »
I almost laughed again.
Mother had never spoken of a Helen.
And neither did Dad.
Not once.
« Best friends don’t erase each other from photos. »
« Generally, no. »
I took the photo down from the wall before she could stop me.
The frame was old, but not the scratches. They deeply etched Helen’s face.
A date was written on the back of the frame.
On the back, in Mom’s handwriting, were five words: « Remove her from the list. »
I watched Helene.
« What list? »
She closed her eyes.
« The list of women she thought your father should marry later. »
I laughed, because the alternative was to believe her. « Mom made a list of women for Dad? »
« Seven names. »
« And he actually used it? »
« Ultimately, yes. »
Six women in 18 months. All in this restaurant.
I stopped laughing. « Why here? »
« Because that’s where your parents met. »
« I know that very well. »
« That’s also where your mother made the list. »
Hélène finally removed her hand from the letter.
« She forced me to help her. »
I snatched it from her hands. The first page wasn’t romantic at all. It was instructions.
Names.
Numbers.
Short descriptions next to each one.
« Anna likes old movies. »
« Beth hates seafood. »
« Lydia speaks when she’s nervous, so give her some time. »
Six names were checked.
The seventh line had been violently crossed out.
Helen.
I looked up.
« You were on the list. »
» At first. «
» For what ? «
Helene looked towards the empty chair where Dad always sat. « Because Maggie thought I understood him. »
It had been years since I’d heard anyone outside our family call Mom « Maggie ».
It gave me goosebumps.
« And then she changed her mind. »
» Yes. «
» For what ? «
Hélène did not reply.
I got up.
« I’m calling Dad. »
« Rachel. »
I was already dialing the number. He answered on the fourth ring.
« Hi, darling. »
« I’m at the restaurant. »
Silence.
I watched Helene.
Dad said, « Is she here? »
It hurt more than I expected.
« Did you know she would be here? »
» No. «
« But how did you know who I was talking about? »
Another silence.
» Dad… «
« Rachel, I can explain. Please don’t open the envelope. »
I looked down at my name.
« Why does everyone keep saying that? »
« Because that’s not how I wanted you to find out. »
« Then you shouldn’t have stuck it under a table. »
He arrived 20 minutes later.
He looked older when he saw the photo I was holding.
« Did Mom do this? »
Dad nodded. « At home. I brought it here after she died. »
He sat down in his usual armchair. Hélène pretended to leave.
I blocked her. « No. If Mom deleted you from the photo, you stay. »
Dad flinched.
I placed the list between them. « Start talking. »
Dad looked at Helene. Helene said, « It’s up to you to tell him. »
He rubbed his face with both hands.
« Your mother knew I wouldn’t try to date anyone else. »
« Apparently, she was wrong. »
« No. She was right. »
He tapped the list. « For five years, I never opened it. »
« Why start now? »
« Because of you. »
I stared at him.
« On your 39th birthday, you told me you wanted me to have a life. »
I remembered.
Dad nodded. « That night, I opened the box. »
« Which box? »
« The blue one your mother left in my closet. »
Helen looked away.
Dad explained that there were seven sealed envelopes in the box.
Six for the women that Mom had chosen.
One for Dad.
Mom knew he would feel guilty about starting to date again.
So she had chosen women who, in her opinion, would accept the fact that a part of her father would always love her.
My throat tightened involuntarily. « Is that why they’re leaving? »
» No. «
« So why? »
Dad looked at Helene.
« When the bill arrives, I give them Mom’s letter. Then I show them mine. »
« Which letter? »
« The one Maggie wrote for me. »
I handed him the list. « You mean this? »
» No. «
Dad rummaged in his jacket and pulled out a folded white sheet of paper.
The folds were almost worn down to the paper.
He handed it to me.
That was largely what I expected.
Mom was telling Dad that she loved him.
His mother told him not to spend the rest of his life alone.
Then I read the last paragraph.
« If Helene ever comes back into your life, promise me she’ll remain your friend and nothing more. Anyone else, Tom. But not her. »
I read it twice.
Then I looked at Hélène. « You were in love with him. »
» No. «
Dad said, « Rachel. »
« And what about her? »
» No. «
« Was he in love with you? »
This time, it was Hélène who answered.
« Not while your mother was alive. »
The room seemed to be shrinking.
I stared at Dad. He didn’t deny it.
Helen’s voice softened.
« Your mother got sick. Your father was exhausted. You were working in another state. I started helping out. »
I remembered the meal trays that appeared in Mom’s fridge, the appointments that Dad managed to organize somehow, the clean sheets when Mom was too weak to climb the stairs.
I thought Dad had taken care of everything.
« Did Hélène do all this? »
He nodded.
« And did Mom know? »
» Yes. «
Hélène swallowed. « For a moment, she was grateful to him. »
« For a while? »
Dad looked at the photo.
« Then Maggie started watching us. »
Nothing had happened.
No connection.
No kissing.
No secret meetings.
But Mom had noticed something that neither of them had admitted.
Hélène managed to make Dad laugh during the worst year of his life.
Dad could sit quietly next to Helen without pretending to be strong.
Mom began to fear the life that might continue after hers.
« So she crossed you off the list, » I said. « And she erased your face. »
Hélène nodded.
» Yes. «
« But why did you disappear? »
Helen’s eyes filled with tears.
« Because she asked me to. »
I stared at her. « Did Mom tell you to leave? »
« Three weeks before his death. »
Dad suddenly turned his head towards her.
» What ? «
Helen turned pale.
« You didn’t know? »
Dad stood up so quickly that his chair hit the wall. « Helen. »
« She told me you knew about it. »
» No. «
For the first time, Helen looked genuinely frightened.
Dad asked, « What exactly did she tell you? »
Helen’s voice was trembling.
« She said you wanted to spend your last few weeks together without me there. She said you felt guilty for asking me to leave yourself. »
Dad stared at her.
« I never said that. »
« I know that now. »
Hélène rummaged through her handbag. This time, she pulled out a small sealed envelope.
His name was written on it.
« Maggie gave me this the day she asked me to leave. »
Dad didn’t take it.
I’m the one who took it.
Inside, there was only one page.
Hélène had kept it for eight years.
Mom’s handwriting became increasingly shaky towards the end.
« I know what I’m asking you to drop. »
« But I am dying, Helen. »
« No, you’re not dying. »
« If you stay, he will love you after I do. »
« Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not for years. »
« But he will love you. »
« And I can’t spend my last days watching the woman who will eventually take my place. »
« Please, grant me this little whim. »
« Leave before me. »
Dad sat down.
For eight years, he had believed that Hélène had disappeared because seeing Mom die had been too painful.
Hélène had thought that her father wanted her to leave.
I looked at the damaged photo. A lie. Eight years.
Then another idea crossed my mind.
« The dates. »
Dad didn’t look up.
« You talked about Helen to all the women. »
» Yes. «
» For what ? «
« Because I showed them what your mother had asked me to do. »
I frowned.
« Each woman received a letter from Maggie. What did they say? »
« That she had chosen them. That she hoped one of them could make me happy. »
That’s when I understood.
Mother had chosen all the women sitting opposite him.
Dad hadn’t invited them out because he felt like it. He was simply going through his list.
And each of them had eventually realized it. And each of them had asked the same question.
« Why do you keep obeying him? »
« What did you tell them? »
Dad looked at me.
« Love for someone should not end when that person dies. »
« No, » I replied. « But the control should stop. »
His face darkened.
Helene murmured, « Rachel. »
I turned to Dad. « You knew Mom didn’t want you near Helen. Fine. But after the first woman told you it was wrong, why continue? »
« I thought I owed it to your mother. »
« You gave him eight years. »
« I gave him 36. »
« She’s dead, Dad. » Those words hurt me.
I hated saying them. But someone had to.
« Mom no longer needs to be protected from what will happen next. »
He stared at the table.
I took the envelope with my name on it.
« Why don’t you stop leaving that? »
Dad looked away.
« Each time, I promise myself I’ll give it to you afterwards. »
« And each time, you don’t do it. »
» No. «
I tore it open. There was only one page.
« If you’re reading this, it means I’ve finally exhausted all my excuses. »
« I loved your mother. »
« I still love him. »
« But loving him has become the reason I’m afraid to live. »
« I kept telling myself that loyalty meant obeying his last wishes. »
« In reality, obedience was easier than choosing something she could no longer forgive me for. »
« And if Hélène ever finds herself facing me again, I don’t know what I’ll choose. »
Dad was crying. So I asked the question that none of them had asked in years.
« Helene, why did you come here last night? »
She looked at Dad. « He’s the one who called me. »
Dad whispered, « I invited her to dinner. »
« And you cancelled your date with him. »
Hélène nodded.
» For what ? «
She looked at Mom’s scribbled face next to her own. « Because I heard Maggie’s voice saying I was taking her place. »
I took the photo.
They both looked at me.
« No. You’re no longer allowed to do that. »
Dad frowned. « Rachel. »
« You’re no longer allowed to go out with women that Mom approved of just because you’re afraid of the one she didn’t approve of. And Hélène, you’re no longer allowed to leave like that because a dying woman asked you to disappear. »
Neither of them said a word.
I pointed to the two empty chairs.
« Please sit down. »
Hélène almost smiled. « Are you giving us orders now? »
« Apparently, someone has to do it. »
Dad looked at her.
For the first time since my arrival, she returned his gaze.
I took my coat.
Dad got up.
« Where are you going? »
» At my house. «
« So what do we do, then? »
I looked at the scratched photo.
» I don’t know. «
Then I looked at him. « That’s exactly it. »
Six weeks later, Dad called me after dinner.
He looked nervous.
« I saw Hélène tonight. »
I smiled.
« At a restaurant? »
» No. «
That was important.
» Or ? «
« In a new place. »
A month later, I went back to the Italian restaurant.
The old photo was still hanging on the wall.
Helen’s face was still scratched.
I asked the waitress why they hadn’t replaced her.
She handed me a clean copy that Dad had brought that morning.
The same evening.
The same people.
Hélène was standing next to her mother, laughing.
Dad was standing on the other side of Mom.
Three young people who had no idea how complicated love was about to become.
I placed the undamaged photo next to the damaged one.
I left them both there.
Some things shouldn’t be erased just because they hurt.
But they shouldn’t be the only ones left hanging on the wall.