He looks up at her with big, serious eyes. “Is your momma gonna be okay?”
“She’ll be fine,” Sadie reassures him, ruffling his hair. “It’s very thoughtful of you to ask.”
“Hmm.” Jonah thinks. “Dad, can I have a pen?”
I hand him mine and he takes a clean napkin and starts drawing.
“Sadie,” my father starts, his voice careful. “I'll be happy to stop by and check on your mother, when you…”
When you leave.
He catches himself. His eyes move to Jonah, bent over his napkin, and then back to me.
I give him the smallest shake of my head.
We haven’t had the big reminder discussion that Sadie is leaving. Jonah knows in the back of his mind, but I don’t want to draw out the pain any more than necessary.
“Thank you, Daryl,” Sadie says. “But I’ll figure it out.”
Jonah slides the napkin over to Sadie.
There are hearts on it. A dinosaur. A truck with more hearts inside it. In the corner, in his careful five-year-old handwriting, the letters slightly uneven and pressed hard into the napkin:
FOR SADIES MOMMA
“It's a feel-better card,” he says. “It's kind of floppy. Sorry.”
Sadie stares at it.
“Jonah.” Her voice has gone soft in a way she's trying to manage. “You did it. You wrote all those words by yourself.”
He smiles, a little bashful and proud at the same time. “Just like you taught me.”
I watch her take in my son, this boy who at the start of summer was a guarded, watchful kid who didn't trust easy, sitting here with ink on his fingers and pure adoration in his eyes. A kid who smiles and laughs easy now. Who reads and writes and learned to do it because all he wanted was for her to look at him the way she is now.
It hits me so fucking hard, this thing I know, this thing I can’t keep forgetting.
It's not just me she's leaving.
It's him.
Her own big blue eyes fill with tears and then she’s hugging him, not letting him see them tumble down her cheeks.
I want to kiss those tears away for her. Now and always.
“It’s the best card ever,” she says. She dashes her hand across her cheeks to wipe away the tears and puts a bright smile on her face. “Momma’s gonna adore it.”
“Thanks.” Jonah throws his arms around her, delighted by her approval. “I love you, Sadie.”
“I love you too,” she says softly, arms tightening around him, eyes squeezing shut. “So much, JoJo.”
My father’s gaze find mine over the table.
There's a question in his eyes. Probably:What the hell are you waiting for, son?
Or maybe:What the hell are you going to do when she's gone?
I don't have a simple answer for my father.
