“Too fun, apparently,” I said, adjusting myself in the plastic hospital chair so Noah could position himself between my knees for a hug. He leaned in until his nose touched mine. There was never any personal space with him. My existence belonged to him.
“Why are you still sleeping?” he asked.
“Because I was up all night watching you breathe.”
“That was dumb.”
“You mean about as dumb as jumping off a shed?”
“I was flying, not jumping.”
“It’s not flying if you belly flop to the ground.”
“I’m still working on sticking the landing.”
I laughed. God, how I loved this muddy handful of a kid. He was my best friend, my confidant, and my partner in crime. And when Noah wasn’t supergluing his hands to the desk at school or jumping off sheds, he really was the perfect little companion.
Sometimes when I was putting him to bed at night, I marveled at the joy and purpose he’d brought to my life. Nick had no idea what he was missing. Noah was full of color—and not just the standard, tiresome ones like yellow or green but also the cool, obscure shades at the end of the color wheel like puce or gamboge. And he didn’t reserve his fun and fearless misadventures just for home, either. Noah was a beacon of light and universally loved at his school. Even the teachers and blacktop staff who occasionally doled out his punishments had to do so through thinly suppressed giggles.
“What are you doing out of bed?” I scolded.
“I was bored. When is my dad coming?”
I froze. This was always the worst part of ‘Nick’ discussions—trying to explain to my son the unexplainable.
“Honey?”
One word coated in compassion was all he needed to hear. Tears sprang to his eyes. “He’s not coming?”
“No. Grandma Ledger says he’s unavailable. Maybe he’s traveling, or he might have a lot of work. She didn’t specify why.”
Noah fell into my arms, his soft cries gut-wrenching. He’d had enough, and I didn’t blame him. There was just so much rejection a person could take before it carved out a little piece of your soul. I knew the feeling. I rocked him in place, my heart breaking for his innocence.
“Come on. We’ll get you back in bed before the nurse finds out,” I said after his tears dried up. “Let’s Make a Dealis about to start.”
Listless and dejected, Noah complied without protest as I maneuvered him into the bed, mindful of the tubing attached to his body.
“How did you manage to do this by yourself without getting all caught up in the wires?” I asked, always amazed at Noah’s resourcefulness.
He shrugged, so miserable. “It was like limbo.”
“Ah,” I said, offering him my bent pinkie. Noah reluctantly hooked his into mine, and we both kissed our interlocked fingers. It was our bond and my promise. Noah might not have his dad in his life, but he had me. And that would just have to be enough for now.
* * *
We were watching the game show on the hospital television when the text came in.
Noah’s eyes widened, full of hope. “Is it my dad?”
Please be Nick, I silently prayed.Just once, Nick. Please care.
But it wasn’t Nick. It was Quinn… and the text he’d promised me last night.
“No, hon, it’s just a friend.”
Noah turned his attention to the TV, silent and stoic. I squeezed his fingers. He squeezed back.
I pulled up Quinn’s text.
