Page 109 of Reeves

"I’ve been meaning to ask… what does Benjy know about his father? Anything?"

He pauses a moment and runs his thumb across his bottom lip. The question I've been waiting for. The one I knew would come, eventually.

"It's okay if the answer is nothing. I just wondered if he's ever asked."

"He knows you're someone important from my past. He knows I cared about you."

"Does he ever ask questions?"

"Sometimes. He'll mention other kids talking about their dads. But it's not like he realizes he’s different. He has my dad. He has consistency."

Reeves nods, his jaw tight. "I don't want to mess that up."

"Whatdoyou want?"

He's been quiet for so long, I wonder if he heard me. A moth circles the porch light, bumping against the glass with soft tapping sounds.

"I don't know what the right answer is," he says finally. "But I know I don't want to show up and then vanish. I know I don't want him wondering where I went."

The weight in his voice surprises me.

"He had a good day today. That doesn't disappear no matter what happens next."

"You think?"

"I watched him with you. The way he lit up when you helped with the pirate trap, how he kept asking questions about your tattoos. That will stay with him, especially once he knows you're his father."

Reeves takes a long drink, then sets the bottle on the table between us.

"Tell me about the last five years."

The change of subject catches me, but I understand what he's asking.

"I built a life that’s steady. Work I'm good at. A house that's ours. Routines that make sense."

"Happy?"

"Content. Most days."

"What about the hard days?"

I think about sleepless nights when Benjy was sick. Financial stress when the practice was starting. Moments when I questioned every decision I'd made.

"We handle them as they come and don't wallow too much. That's what seems to work best for us."

"You always could handle things."

"Not always. I used to think I needed someone else to feel complete."

He furrows his brow. "And now?"

"Now I know I can stand on my own. Anything else that comes our way, I know I can handle it.”

The moth gives up on the light and flutters away into the darkness.

"What about you?" I ask. "Six years of moving around. Did you find the freedom and adrenaline you so craved?"

"I learned that motion isn't the same as healing." He runs his thumb along the bottle's condensation. "But it does make it easier not to sit still long enough for certain things to catch up with you."