HOW’S HE TODAY?
I stared at the screen.
I could have written, He remembered Leah.
I could have called it progress.
Instead, I put the phone away.
This was not a loss for Noah.
That mattered.
For him, this was the first spontaneous bridge between the life he could reach and the life everyone insisted had continued without him. A face had come with history attached. A voice had opened a door.
I had no right to make the breakthrough smaller because it hurt me.
The thought was correct.
It did nothing to stop the ache.
I stayed outside until the wind cooled the dampness on my face.
Then I went to the café.
Leah drank coffee with too much cream. Noah had begun asking for tea, though he disliked most of the hospital varieties. The dietitian had approved a small amount of caffeine, provided his headaches did not worsen.
I bought three drinks and a slice of lemon cake.
Before returning to the ward, I stood near the elevator and rearranged my expression.
Noah did not need my grief placed beside his bed.
He had enough to carry.
When I knocked on the open door, Leah was sitting close to him, showing him photographs on her phone.
Noah looked tired but alert. Happiness softened him despite the pain.
“Delivery,” I said.
Leah looked up. “You vanished.”
“Coffee.”
Her eyes searched my face.
I gave the smallest shake of my head.
Later.
She accepted the cup.
I set Noah’s tea on the table. “They let it cool before handing it over, so you won’t scald yourself.”
He looked at me. “I did that?”
“Twice.”
