Page 132 of Reeves

The sharp sound of a car door slamming outside snaps my attention to the window.

I move to the door just as Benjy's voice carries from outside.

The screen door creaks as I open it. Paolo's mom waves from their minivan, stopped at the curb. Benjy hops down from the back seat.

"Thanks for taking him, Lucinda!" I call across the lawn.

Paolo leans out the window. "Bye, Benjy! Remember about the submarines!"

Benjy doesn't even turn around, just waves backward as he races up our walkway, words already tumbling out before he reaches me.

"Mom! The jellyfish tank was all purple lights, and they looklike ghosts, but not scary ghosts. I touched a starfish, and it felt like sandpaper but wet!"

He barrels past me into the house, grabbing my hand with fingers still sticky from whatever snack they had.

"Come sit down! I have to tell you everything!"

I let him pull me to the couch, his energy washing away the heaviness I've been carrying all morning. He climbs up, bouncing on his knees beside me.

"The sea turtles were eating lettuce. Real lettuce! And there was this shark that had spots on it, and Paolo said it was a leopard shark, but I think leopards have bigger spots."

I smile. "Did you see the seahorses?"

"Yes! They hold onto things with their tails. They don't even swim good, but they still don't get lost."

His arms wave as he speaks, mapping the shape and size of each creature. This is our normal. This is what I built for us.

“Well. They don’t swim well.”

He doesn’t even acknowledge me.

"And guess what? They have a real submarine you can go in! It's not under the water anymore, but it has all the buttons and stuff still inside."

He stops suddenly, his eyes bright with a new thought.

"Can I tell Reeves about the submarine? I bet he's been in a real one that goes underwater for real."

My body stills. The air is thinner now. Benjy's question sucks up all the oxygen, more significant than he knows.

"I think..." My voice catches. "I'm sure he'd find that interesting."

Benjy nods, already building on this new idea.

"When can we see him again? Can he come tomorrow? He could come to dinner, and I could show him my drawing of the shark, and maybe he could tell me about submarines and if they're scary when they go deep in the water."

His words rush forward, unstoppable, like water finding a new path.

Each suggestion builds on the last, his voice climbing higher with excitement. His hands gesture wider. This isn't just idle curiosity anymore. He is actively thinking about Reeves when he does things that have nothing to do with him.

My phone sits face-down on the table, Reeves's unanswered message about the tank show burning a hole through the glass top.

"Honey, I don't know if?—"

"Does he know how to fish? PopPop could teach us both at the same time!" Benjy interrupts, completely unaware of my hesitation.

Uncomfortably, I come to realize that I’m the wall between them. I’m the door that opens or closes. The yes or the no.

For five years, I've been the only one making these decisions. Now every answer I give shapes what Benjy believes about his father, even if he's not aware that that’s who Reeves is to him. Every "not today" or "we'll see" is me actively preventing something that could be good for him.