M. Gessen

My daughter knew.

It was a little bit exciting, but it also gave me an excuse for maintaining peace with my newly enlarged family.

But the more I hung out with them, the more I just hung out with them.

O was growing.

Alan and Lena were building a life.

I watched.

Sometimes I caught myself thinking that it was a pretty good life.

Alan, Lena, and O moved into a farmhouse in Concord, Massachusetts.

Lena furnished it stylishly.

They seemed to spend most of their time actively raising O. They enrolled him in Jewish school, violin lessons, fencing, horseback riding, and I'm sure I'm still forgetting something.

They dressed O like a tiny little gentleman, complete with brogues and fedora hats.

And by some sort of miracle, the result wasn't annoying.

Always a delight, curious, entertaining without being overbearing, and unfailingly polite.

He seemed happy.

Whatever damage being separated from his mother had done, I couldn't see it.

What I could see was that he was doted on and thriving.

To put it another way, and it wasn't easy for me to admit that I was seeing this, Alan seemed like a great dad.

Kind, attentive, devoted, and fun.

Two years passed like this.

Eventually, Priscilla and Elle, who was now a toddler, made it to the United States.