The Correspondent: A Novel by Virginia Evans - 16

Sybil Van Antwerp

17 Farney Rd.

Arnold, MD

21012

September 25, 2013

Dear Sybil,

It’s late, but I can’t sleep. I have the window open and the wind chimes you gave me several birthdays ago are wind chiming. Daan called tonight, and I went back and forth if I would write or call. If it were me I guess I would want you to be the one to tell me. He’s been diagnosed with colon cancer that’s already spread up into his intestine and stomach. They’re going to be starting with treatments and he’ll have a surgery for discovery later this week to see how far it’s progressed. He sounded like the same old Daan, calm and optimistic. He said Lina is very upset (of course she is). I know I’m not supposed to, but I feel sorry for her. He told Fiona and Bruce yesterday, but asked them not to tell you immediately. He thought maybe he should call you, but I said I would let you know. I’m not sure how this will feel to you. I’m sorry, Syb. Don’t be angry with Fiona and Bruce, you know they’re caught in the middle and they’re always trying to do their best by both of you.

I tried explaining the news to Lars. Daan had already been on the line with him for a while. It’s sweet the way Daan talks to him about the past. I guess history is all they have anymore. Daan will say something like, Remember when we took the train with Mother to see her sister in France…and go on into some old memory like he’s telling a story to a child. Lars seems to listen. He certainly recognizes Daan’s voice, you can see the way it calms him. After Daan had been talking to Lars for a while I took the phone off speaker and Daan told me about the cancer, so after we hung up I tried telling Lars. I can’t tell if any of it got through to him, but then I got to thinking what’s the point in making sure Lars understands? Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t. I brought out a photo of them from our wedding, wondering if seeing a younger version of his brother might jostle his mind to remembering a bit. I hadn’t looked at those photographs in years! They really did look like twins, didn’t they? I have no idea what Lars did or didn’t understand, but he held the photo for a long time staring at it, breaking my heart.

Anyway, I know it’s somewhat crass to put the two side by side in a letter, but I’m thinking about the man from Texas you said has written twice to ask you to dinner, the one you met at the memorial service, and you keep pushing him off. The fact that he wrote again after your first (harsh) reply, and sent those flowers as an apology, says something about him (something lovely). What harm would it do to go to dinner? I worry about you.

I’m reading Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. It’s very dark. What are you reading? Give me a call when you get this letter if you want to.

Love,

Rosalie

(How is Fiona doing with the baby? Did she like the blanket you sent? Is she calling him Charles or Charlie?)