And when we finally fall asleep, tangled together in our bed, I memorize everything. The weight of his arm across my waist. The sound of his breathing. The way his heartbeat sounds against my ear.
Two years.
We can survive two years.
We have to.
40
SAVANNAH
Dante takeshis first steps on a Tuesday afternoon in November.
I’m sitting on the floor of the living room, arms outstretched, watching him wobble on uncertain legs. He’s been pulling himself up on furniture for weeks, cruising along the couch with one hand gripping the cushions. But this is different.
This is him letting go.
“Come on, baby,” I say, keeping my voice encouraging. “Come to Mama.”
He takes one step. Two. His face is serious with concentration, tongue poking out between his lips. Three steps. Four.
Then he falls forward into my arms, laughing.
“You did it!” I squeeze him tight. “You walked! Oh my God, you walked!”
He babbles something that might be “Mama” or might just be sounds. At ten months old, his vocabulary consists of maybe five words, none of them particularly clear.
But he walked.
And Ledger wasn’t here to see it.
I pull out my phone and record a video of Dante’s next attempt. He makes it six steps this time before tumbling onto his padded bottom. I send the video to Ledger’s prison email account, knowing he won’t see it until tomorrow during his computer access time.
Dante walked today. First steps. Wish you were here.
I don’t mention how much it hurt to watch alone or mention the way my chest ached when I realized Ledger missed this milestone. He has enough guilt without me adding to it.
The phone rings. Alexi.
“Hey,” I answer. “What’s up?”
“Just checking in. How’s Dante?”
“He walked. Just now. Six steps.”
“That’s amazing! Send me the video.”
“Sure thing.” I look at Dante, who’s crawling toward his toy basket. “How are things at the office?”
“Good. The Chicago hotel acquisition is moving forward. The Rome property is finally showing profit. And the tech investment Ledger made three years ago just paid out dividends.”
“That’s great.”
“You sound tired.”
“I am tired. Dante was up three times last night. I think he’s teething again.”
“Want me to come over? Elena and I can watch him for a few hours so you can nap.”
