It's gone now, faded to nothing.
I even bought his soap from the store the other day and I use it on the days I feel lonely. It doesn't smell exactly the same; the woodsy scent is slightly off without the distinct natural scent of my Atlas, but... it's better than nothing.
I miss him. I love him. And I hope he gets better.
When he comes home, I hope he can be a better father to our sons.
I hope our sons can forgive him and want a relationship with him.
I hope... well, I don't know what I hope for us anymore, but Ihavehope. Ihavefaith in Atlas, and I think that's good enough for now...
"Atlas is doing well," I finally answer Mr. Jefferson.
"And the boys?"
"Great, as always," I say, smiling easily now—talking about my boys always does that.
"Good, good," he nods, satisfied. "And, most importantly,you?"
I pause, considering his question, before I smile wide.
"I'm great. Truly."
He nods approvingly, a smile on his face. "Good. Now, let me get on the road. Got dinner at Maggie's tonight."
"Ooh—Chicken Pot Pie?"
"You already know," he chuckles, rubbing his stomach.
"Get home safe, Mr. Jefferson. It's still a little icy out there."
Mr. Jefferson scoffs as he walks away, pushing his car toward the cashier.
"Please, when I was your age, I used to have to drive in snow six feet high. I even had to walk barefoot in the snow to school, uphill. Both ways."
I laugh, shaking my head as his voice fades. Crouching again, I open another box and start placing bags on the shelves when a soft, hesitant voice speaks behind me.
"Excuse me? I'm so sorry."
Turning, I see a beautiful blonde woman that I don't think I recognize. She's got long, honey-colored hair, bright blue eyes, and freckles dotted across a heart-shaped face.
She's wearing light blue scrubs under her puffy winter jacket and holding up a bag of dried blueberries, a hopeful look on her face.
"Do you happen to have strawberry in that box? My daughter only likes the dried strawberries. She said the texture is more pleasing than the blueberry, even though she likes actualblueberries more than strawberries."
"Oh," I say, smiling as I pull out a bag—and then another when she gestures for two.
"Thank you," she exhales, placing both in her basket. "You're a lifesaver."
"No problem," I smile, standing back up and tilting my head. "I don't think I've seen you around before."
"Oh, right—hi, I'm Bonnie," she smiles, holding her hand out for me to shake. "Bonnie Buchanan."
"I'm Wendy Durant," I smile, shaking her hand.
Her eyes light up. "Durant? Oh—you're Liam's mom!"
I blink, "Yes...?"
