Marcus stared at the photograph.
"What happened?"
"The principal backed down."
Dorothy corrected him. "The district backed him down. He never admitted he was wrong." Marcus looked at his mother's face in the picture.
For years his memories of Angela had been domestic: kitchen music, bedtime stories, hospital blankets. He had not known she possessed this other history.
"Why didn't anybody tell me?"
Bradley looked ashamed.
"She wanted to."
David set down his fork.
"Angela used to say she would tell you when you were old enough to understand the difference between breaking rules and challenging bad ones."
Marcus smiled faintly.
"I think she waited too long."
No one corrected him. Bradley turned another page. There was Angela at twenty-five wearing a teacher's lanyard, surrounded by teenagers in a classroom. On the board behind her someone had written WHO GETS TO TELL THE STORY?
Marcus touched the edge of the photograph.
"She looks happy."
"She was," Bradley said. "Teaching mattered to her."
"Then why'd you two stop talking?"
The adults grew still. Bradley looked at Dorothy. She did not save him.
"I was running for city council," he said. "Your mother thought I was becoming too careful."
"Careful how?"
"I started avoiding fights I thought would hurt my campaign. She thought some fights mattered more than elections."
Marcus considered that.
"Was she right?"
Bradley gave a sad laugh.
"Often enough to be irritating."
He looked at Angela's photograph.
"We had a public disagreement about school funding. She criticized a proposal I supported. I told her she was making things harder for me. She told me maybe I needed harder things."
Dorothy smiled despite herself.
"That sounds like Angela."
"I stopped calling as much. Then she got sick. By the time I understood how little time we had, everything between us felt too big to fix in one conversation."
Marcus's expression hardened.
"You could have tried."
"Yes."
"You should've."
"Yes."
Bradley did not ask to be forgiven. That helped. Marcus reached for another piece of chicken.
"You can come to dinner again."
Bradley blinked.
"That's it?"
"No."
Marcus chewed.