Don’t tell your mother that Sylvie has gone. Don’t tell your mother that Dad no longer has a job. Don’t tell your mother that Grandma Françoise is angry. Don’t tell your mother the sink is leaking. Don’t tell your mother I’ve sold the car. Don’t tell your mother we can’t find that sweatshirt. Tell your mother we’re not sure yet what we’re going to do. Tell your mother I’m waiting for a rebate and I’ll be able to pay for your lunches soon. Don’t tell your mother we didn’t go out. Tell your mother we couldn’t have a meeting. Don’t tell her that…
When he shuts his eyes, he sometimes sees their faces the way they used to be, like in the photo where they’re together, smiling. His mother has long hair. She’s turning toward his father, who’s looking at the lens. He’s wearing a short-sleeved polo shirt. He has his arm around her waist. This photo used to comfort him. Now he knows that photos are just another sort of hoax.