I started crying right there in the living room. Real crying.
I said, “I am here now. But you almost taught me not to come back.”
Nobody spoke.
Nick cried too. Linda covered her mouth. The kids looked confused, then Emma took my hand like she thought maybe that would keep me from disappearing again.
I looked at him and almost smiled. That little hand steadied me.
Later, after cake and presents and too many pictures, after the children were asleep, Nick and I sat at the kitchen table.
He made me tea.
“How much sugar?” he asked.
I looked at him and almost smiled. “Two.”
He winced. “I should have known that.”
“Yes,” I said. “You should have.”
He nodded and handed me the cup anyway.
Then he said, “I can’t undo yesterday. But I want to do better in ordinary ways. Weekly dinners when you visit. Sunday calls. Actual plans. Not just ‘sometime soon.’”
“Trust is built by repetition,” I said.
For illustration purposes only
“I know.”
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