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Atlas gently guided me out into the hallway.
He hugged me and held me and didn’t say a word as I got out a good cry.
When I finally looked up at him, he wiped tears off my cheeks.
“There’s nothing you can say and nothing you can do,” I whispered.
“I know that, love. But we can be here. And we are here.”
“She’s strong, Atlas.”
“Of course she is. She came from you.”
“She came from us, Atlas. Us. She’s a perfect mix of you and me. This isn’t one sided.”
“I never said it was. I never meant it to sound that way.”
“Let’s go back in and read to her. Together.”
I took Atlas’s hand and we walked back into the room.
We sat down next to each other.
Atlas was so big he took up the entire chair and his knees almost came up to his face.
I had a book with me.
Atlas and I took turns, reading one page at a time.
I just wanted to know our daughter could hear us.
But all I could do was believe in it.
Believe in her.
Believe in love.
When we finished the book, Atlas slipped his hand into mine.
His fingers interlocked with mine.
We sat there in silence, staring at our daughter.
Both of us thinking.
Both of us giving out all the energy we could find to her.
I looked at Atlas and he slowly looked at me.
We leaned toward one another at the same time.
Our foreheads touched.
We still had zero answers.
Where to live. What to do. How to handle the Boston thing.
A million racing thoughts.
