Page 187 of Reeves

I realize that while I miss Benjy's constant chatter and excitement in the house, the quiet is nice. I lean back in the chair and let the quiet sit for a minute.

I eat at the counter, flipping through a magazine I've been meaning to read for weeks. When I finish, I wash my plate immediately instead of adding it to the day's collection in the sink.

When I finally climb into bed, the silence feels like a borrowed sweater. I don't set my alarm because it's Saturdayand I'll have a whole day to do whatever I want. Or nothing at all.

I smile to myself as I drift off to sleep.

My feet sinkinto the wet sand with each step, waves rushing over my ankles before retreating back to the Gulf. Mom walks beside me, her pace matching mine as we follow the shoreline.

"It's so quiet," I say, watching a sandpiper dart between the waves. "Benjy would've chased that bird halfway to Louisiana by now."

Mom smiles. "Probably with his net and collection jar."

The Saturday morning beach walk is different without my son racing ahead, stopping every three feet to collect shells or inspect something in the sand, interrupting our conversation every sixty seconds. His absence changes the entire vibe, but not in a hollow way.

"You know what's funny? I thought this would be harder." I pick up a perfect sand dollar and brush it clean. I'll save it for Benjy.

"The first weekend away. I expected to be checking my phone every five minutes or making lists of things I need to tell Reeves."

"But you're not?"

I shake my head. "He's texted a few pictures of Benjy, but it's not like we're in constant contact, which I think is good for everyone. And I'm surprisingly okay with it."

The water rushes over our feet again, cool against my skin.

"We're figuring it out," I continue. "Schedules, drop-offs, what Benjy needs from each of us. We'll be able to hit the ground running with this shared custody when he moves back in November."

"And Reeves? How's that part going?"

I consider this as we walk past a cluster of seagulls. "Honestly, it's much better than I could have imagined. We work well together as co-parents. The initial awkwardness has worn off, and we keep our conversations to Benjy."

"That's so good." Mom watches my face carefully.

"It is." I keep my voice even. "Benjy deserves to have his father in his life. Reeves is trying. Really trying."

"I'm sure relinquishing some of the control over decisions for Benjy is an adjustment. Are you doing okay there?"

I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "You know, Mom. I was worried. But Reeves defers to me for the most part and pushes back some when necessary. I appreciate having someone else there to work through things."

The sun warms my shoulders as we walk further down the beach. A comfortable silence settles between us.

"Work calmed down, any?"

"Thank God, yes. I thought I might not survive that, but the Medicaid investigation is officially closed," I say after a while. "There was no wrongdoing found."

Mom squeezes my shoulder, pulling me to her as we walk. "That's wonderful news."

"Mostly I'm just tired. Three months of audits and stress for nothing." I shrug. "But it's over."

"You handled it beautifully."

"I got through it,” I say, bending to pick up a small spiral shell. I turn it once in my fingers before slipping it into my pocket beside the sand dollar.

We continue walking, the waves creating a steady rhythm beside us.

"Ready to turnback?" Mom asks.

"Not yet." I look ahead at the long stretch of shoreline. "Unless you need to get back?"