I’m totally devastated in the best way possible. My heart feels like it’s going to explode.
I take it carefully when he hands it to me, like it’s a rare gem. The clay is still cool and soft. Up close, I can see the little imperfections that make it clear he’s still figuring out how to work with this new medium. But all the little flaws make me love it even more; they are reminders of his tiny hands hard at work making something just for me.
“Sasha, this is the nicest gift I’ve ever gotten.”
His eyes widen. “Really?”
“Really. I’m going to try it on, then we need to set it in the oven. I’m keeping it forever. But I want to see how it looks on me first.” Carefully, I slip on the necklace, making sure not to disturb the clay. “What do you think?”
He nods, pleased. “I think it’s good. But the next one will be better.”
The air changes a bit. Over my shoulder, I spot Andrei, the paper lowered. He’s watching us, taking in what’s happening. When our eyes meet, he nods once, the faintest whisper of a smile forming on his lips. It vanishes just as quickly as it appeared, the paper moved back in front of his face.
Sasha beams, very pleased with himself. “I want to make a little dish for Papa to put his watch in,” he says. “And we can put that in the oven with the necklace, okay?”
“Sounds great.”
I watch Sasha work, kneading clay with his usual seriousness.
A few minutes later, Roman’s familiar presence fills the doorway. I don’t look up right away. I don’t have to. I can feel him.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he says.
I glance up at him, surprised and a little confused. “Didn’t have to do what?”
“Put it on,” he says, nodding toward the necklace.
I touch it without thinking. I wonder if he thinks I’m only being nice. “Of course I did.”
Roman’s gaze moves from the necklace to Sasha, who’s so in the zone he doesn’t even notice his papa is at the door. I rise slowly, stepping over to Roman and giving Sasha space to work. When I get closer, Roman’s eyes move back to the necklace.
“Did you help him with that?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Nope. Well, I taught him the basics. But turns out he’s good at more than just drawing.”
Roman’s expression is thoughtful, as if he’s adding that to his mental filing cabinet. “He’s never done that before.”
“Worked with clay? Yeah, that’s what he said. I was surprised at how quickly he took to it.”
He shakes his head. “No, not that. He’s never opened up in that way.”
I swallow, giving his words a second to settle. “He’s a sweet kid who just needs to feel safe.”
Roman’s jaw tightens. “You make him feel that way. Safe.”
The word settles between us.
“I’m impressed,” he says after a moment. “Not many people earn his affection. And even fewer earn Andrei’s.”
“He kind of smiled at me.”
Roman chuckles. “You’ve passed a few important tests, I see.”
Sasha looks up, holding his clay creation proudly. “Papa, look!”
Roman walks to the table and crouches beside him, this huge, powerful man making himself small next to his boy. “That’s very good,” he says. And I can tell he means it.
I watch them, heads bent down together as Sasha explains his creation.
