Samantha glances toward the door.
“He’s outside?”
“Yes,” I reply. “He told me he isn’t ready yet.”
She nods, like she already knows that will be the answer. She moves closer to the window and looks out toward the street. Her eyes land on Seth sitting in the car, posture rigid, hands on the wheel like he is holding himself in place.
“But, he didn’t want you worrying.” I add. “ He wanted you to know we’re okay.”
Her eyes flick up to mine. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes. We’ll probably be gone for awhile.”
She nods slowly. “I understand. You don’t have to explain it to me. But wait… I want him to have something.”
She turns and disappears into another room. I hear a drawer open, then close. When she comes back, she is holding a photograph in both hands, careful with it.
She presses it into my palm.
“That’s him,” she says softly. “The day he was born.”
The photo shows Seth as a newborn. His little face is red and his tiny body is wrapped in a hospital blanket that nearly swallows him whole. A ridiculous little orange pumpkin hat sits crooked on his head. Samantha is smiling in the picture, fully smiling in a way that shows she has no idea what horrors will one day come for her son.
“When he’s ready,” her voice breaks. “I’ll be here.”
She pulls me into another hug, slower this time, lingering. “Tell him I love him. No matter what.”
Samantha doesn’t let go right away.
Her hands stay on my arms. She searches my face one more time.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For coming. For telling me. For loving him.”
I nod.
Her mouth tightens, but she doesn’t cry. She just nods once, the way people do when they are trying not to fall apart. She steps back and opens the door for me.
At the threshold, she hesitates.
“Wherever you end up, please keep in touch.”
“I will, I promise.”
She leans forward and hugs me one last time. When she pulls away, she straightens her shoulders.
The door closes behind me with a soft click.
The night air hits colder now. I stand on the porch for a second, letting my breath even out. Through the window, I can see Samantha move back into the house. I can hear her kids laughing.
I walk down the steps slowly. Halfway across the street, I glance back.
Seth is still in the car, exactly where I left him. He doesn’t look at the house. He doesn’t look at me until I open the door.
Back in the car, the door closes with a muted thud. Seth’s eyes go to my hands before my face. I place the photograph gently in his lap.
He picks it up and studies it in silence. His thumb brushes the edge once.
“She okay?”
