Eighteenth Birthday News

It's late at night, past twelve. Jack and Mom are talking by themselves in the front room.

"Victor, I had a call today. From the lawyer." Pause.

"What was it about?"

"I'd almost forgotten about it again, it was so long ago, but when we came from Bhutan we brought a letter with us, that Brother Andre had put in our care. The letter was for you, and it wasn't supposed to be given to you till you turned eighteen. We gave it to our lawyer to hold for us, like Brother Andre asked. And now you'll soon be turning eighteen. He called to remind us."

"The lawyer called to remind you about getting the letter to me on my birthday. Who's it from?"

"It was written by your real mother, I think. I'm not clear about that anymore. Maybe I shouldn't even have said that. It was from a woman, anyway."

"Do you have any idea what it was about? Have you read it? Why couldn't I see it till my eighteenth birthday?"

"No, it was sealed, in a package. Brother Andre has a copy. It was his decision that you not read it till you're eighteen. You should know too, that some months ago I was worried about you, the way you were so desperately seeking answers to all kinds of weird questions - so I wrote Brother Andre, asking him to get in touch with us. I never heard back, so that sort of slipped my mind too."