"Aren't we invading his privacy?"
"He won't return our calls," Fenton answered his frowning wife, pounding on his son's door. "What are we supposed to do?"
Laura sighed and pulled her sweater closer. She didn't know anymore. She hadn't known for a long, long time.
The door opened moments later, and Joe stepped out. Laura's eyes widened, and a smile touched her mouth: her son had filled out slightly, his body sturdier; his eyes, clearer. The circles were gone from beneath his eyes, and he seemed more alert.
"Honey…" her heart stopped as she spotted the scissors in Joe's hand and the tee shirt he wore, revealing the scars.
"Joseph! What are you—" Fenton began.
"It's okay," he said quickly, gesturing to the floor, where strands of blonde lay strewn about. "I'm cutting my hair."
Laura felt herself blush. "Oh," she murmured.
"I could barely see."
"You couldn't see."
Joe nodded and surprised his parents with an embrace.
"Come in," he murmured, stepping back to hold the door open.
The Hardys entered, looking around at the now clean dorm room, the floor freshly swept, the bed made with clean sheets, the windows open to let in the warmer air, a basket of laundry fresh from the dryer resting beside opened drawers filled with folded clothes.
"I'm sorry I haven't called."
"We've been worried."
"I know."
"Your friends said they stopped by."
"They have."
"Are you…doing all right?"
The younger Hardy nodded and bent to gather his strands of blonde hair from the floor.
"Better," he murmured. "A lot better."
There was an awkward pause as Laura settled onto the bed and Fenton walked to the windows.
"I think I'm going to transfer to Michigan U," Joe murmured a moment later. "To be with my friends."
"We can talk about it."
Another pause.
"Dad…you working again?"
Fenton winced. "A little," he murmured.
Joe set the scissors down. "I've been thinking of switching my major."
His parents stared.
"To Criminal Law."
Laura's eyes filled. "Joe…"
"He wouldn't want me to stop, you know. Mysteries are a part of me. They were of him too."
"Honey…"
"I went to his grave. Did you know I've never been there?"
"Son…" Fenton started.
"And you know what I realized?" he looked at them. "It wasn't my fault. It was all me. All in my head. And I was selfish, because…because I dragged everyone down along with me rather than just getting some help. And I hurt you worse than myself…" his voice caught, and his eyes filled. Laura pressed her hand to her mouth as her son turned his eyes, no longer haunted, to her own.
"Oh Mom…Dad…I'm…I'm sorry…"
They both just held out their arms and let their son fall into them, weep against his mother's shoulder as his father stroked his hair. It was the first time the small family had come together without its fourth member. But as they entwined they were no longer three struggling individuals: they were links in a chain. Cold when viewed as separate circles, but warming as they held on, ever bound.
