Page 77 of Smoke Signals

She points toward the cubbies, and Stellan nods like he understands what she’s saying.

For a few seconds the tension in my chest loosens.

Alaska grabs both our hands when we head back toward the door, her fingers curling around ours easily.

She swings between us while we walk toward the truck. I look down at the small hand holding mine as a thought goes through my head, and I let it.

This is temporary.

Don’t get used to it.

The drive back to the apartment is silent. Alaska plays with fox and taps on the window while Stellan glances in the rearview mirror, watching her. When we reach the apartment building she runs ahead toward the door, fox bouncing behind her again.

Inside, the space feels familiar; shoes by the door, Alaska’s drawings taped to the fridge, and the faint hum of traffic outside.

I start dinner while Stellan leans against the counter.

“Need help?” he asks.

“You can set the table,” I say.

He moves around the kitchen easily, grabbing plates from the cabinet without asking where they are.

Halfway through dinner I catch him glancing around the kitchen. Not in a distracted way, but more in a taking stock or measurements way. His eyes move from the counter to the cabinets, then to the window, then back again.

“I never noticed how tight the kitchen is,” he says.

“It works for us,” I reply.

He nods slowly.

“Yard would be nice for her someday,” he adds.

My fork pauses halfway to my mouth.

“Yeah,” I say.

Alaska dips her chicken into mashed potatoes and gravy, and watches us with quiet curiosity.

Later she sprawls across the couch while a cartoon plays on the television. The glow of the screen flickers across the living room while she slowly sinks deeper into the cushions.

Stellan sits beside me scrolling through something on his phone. He repositions his phone and for a brief second I see the screen.

Zillow.

He sets the phone down when he notices me watching.

“Movie’s almost over,” he says quietly.

I nod. “I should get her in the tub and bed.”

Bath time comes next. Alaska splashes water across the bathroom floor while I pretend to be attacked by rubber ducks. Her laughter fills the small room.

After pajamas and a bedtime story, she curls under her blanket and signs goodnight before drifting off.

The apartment goes quiet again.

Stellan locks the front door and flips off the living room light. We head to the bedroom together.