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“Thank you for the sandwich and Cheetos.
“I thought, Alistair…” I use his real name instead of Van because I don’t know if these people know who he was in the past. If they’re anything like me, they wouldn’t care anyway. But Van doesn’t air his dirty laundry. My guess is they have no idea who he really is.
I shake my head and give her an apologetic smile. “I thought Alistair was taking me to a restaurant or something.”
Carol wraps an arm around me. It feels motherly—something I’ve never experienced before.
“How long have you known Alistair?” A toothy smile graces her face, like it’s her favorite question.
“I’ve known Alistair for nine years, not nearly as long as you have.” I nod, but a nagging sense of guilt overtakes me. “But you’d be surprised how little I know about him,” I admit. “We had a whirlwind romance.”
“Those are the best kind.”
If she only knew.
“I suppose, but sometimes I wish we would have gotten to know one another better before getting married.” Carol gives me a slight squeeze as we walk down the corridor decorated with wall art, the most prominent being a finger-painted sunflower. Actually, they’re all sunflowers. I still, taking in each one as Carol stands next to me.
“Alistair’s mother loved sunflowers.”
“I didn’t know that.” Carol pulls one of the frames off the wall and holds it in front of us.
“She was like us, you know.” I nod, but I had no idea.
“She raised Alistair in a place similar to this one.” My stomach knots as I think of the story Van once told me of how a fire raged in the group home his mother lived in, killing many, including her.
“Van’s mother had Down syndrome?” I asked for some reason. When Van mentioned a group home, my mind immediately thought of a psychiatric home or a substance abuse group home. Never did I think it was Down syndrome.
She nods, gazing at the picture of Alistair’s mother.
“How? How can that be?”
Carol smiles at me sweetly, knowing that my questions are coming from a place of complete education.
“Women with Down syndrome can have children. It’s rare, but they can, and while the condition is a genetic mutation, most of the time, it’s not hereditary.”
Van has always been rare. His rage. His hate. His love. Everything that makes up Van Gogh is rare.
Carol puts the frame back on the wall and smooths her fingers over the glass.
“After the fire, my mother used to wake up at night screaming.”
“Your mother was there?”
Carol nods. “Alistair was working that night, helping bus tables at the café next door. I think he was only fifteen at the time. When he saw the flames, he ran over and came through the back door, where he found my mother trapped in the community kitchen. He was able to rescue her and a few others before the smoke overtook the building.”
My heart sank at the thought of a teenage Alistair, watching in horror as flames engulfed the only home he knew.
“The fire department came, but by then, the roof had started caving in. The firemen found Alistair on the fire escape, trying to find a way back inside.” She blinks back tears. “Rebecca was standing at the window, a look of pride on her face. I think she knew that was the last time she would see her son, and I think in that moment, she was proud of the man he would become.” Carol swallows as if it pains her to keep going. “It took three firefighters to pull him to safety. That poor boy kicked and screamed, fighting with everything he had to free himself, but they held firm, and that sweet boy watched as the smoke took everything he’d ever known.” I didn’t realize I was crying until several tears streaked down my cheeks.
“I didn’t know this part of the story.”
“He tried to save her. My mother said it was horrifying as they watched, hearing the poor boy’s screams as he called for his mother over the sound of the roaring flames.”
Carol pauses for a moment, not bothering to say what happened in the time between. We all know Alistair didn’t find his mother that day.
Like coming out of a trance, Carol shakes her head and offers me a sad smile. “My mother never saw Alistair again. Not until he found me five years ago and told me of his plans to open this place.”
“Is your mother still alive?”
