AMOS
It’s the way Marco is moving his foot under the sheet.
That's how I know he must still be awake.
He often draws lines or circles with his big toe when he’s feeling anxious.
Across the darkened mattress, I reach for his hand.
Neither of us speak.
It isn't hard to guess what’s on his mind. Or who.
But instead of words, we simply lay there hand in hand.
And soon his breath grows deep and steady, his body calm.
Dawn softens the darkness, evaporating the night.
First, a gentle stretch on the yoga mat.
A chia smoothie to go.
Then we load the truck with comforts from home.
Everything a city boy might possibly need in the middle of nowhere.
I check my messages.
“Talia’s got an air mattress we can borrow. Self-inflating. I’ll swing by and pick it up while you’re with Josie.”
Marco nods, but his mind is elsewhere.
The morning air is still crisp as I let the engine idle.
“See you soon,” I wave.
He's booked the first available trim as soon as the doors open.
He wants to look his best for his Mama.
“Even though she probably won't recognise me,” he says. “Eleven years is a long time.”
“I reckon she will,” I assure him. “How could anyone forget that handsome face?”
Exiting the parking lot, I turn left onto Merthyr and head for Abbott Street.
???
Vonnie answers her phone after my second attempt.
“You’re taking the week off,” she grumbles. “That means I get extra beauty sleep.”
“I know, Von. I’m sorry.”
“This better be good.”
“How much do you love me?”
