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“They came out great,” he says. He spends his time, studying each one. He looks to me and hands the phone back over. “This one’s the best.”
I swallow. It is a great picture, a beautiful one. The lake, the red streaked sky and the setting sun as a backdrop give it a magical quality, but it’s Ethan’s expression that does me in. He’s looking up at Simon, not at the camera, and smiling in an awestruck kind of way. Returning the phone, I avoid his eyes. “Yeah, that’s a great shot. Can you send it to me?”
“Lemme see, lemme see,” Ethan chimes in as he attempts to scale Simon’s legs.
Simon sinks down onto the grass laughing and Ethan scrambles into his lap. “Wait a sec,” he tells Ethan as he fiddles with his phone. “Let me send this one to Mommy and then I’ll show you the rest.”
Everything is magnified today. Simple words, but him referring to me as Mommy instead of, I don’t know, your mother, has me welling up. When I repeat the sentence with the replacement—Let me send this one to your mother—I can’t deny that it pleases me. Mommy sounds different, more intimate, better.
Again, I look back and catch him studying me. He clears his throat then, shifting his focus back to Ethan. “I’ll have to send this picture to my brother Michael. He’ll be so excited to see you, and he loves dogs too.”
“He don’t sneeze?”
Simon laughs. “No, that was my other brother, Timmy, who sneezed and coughed.” He kisses Ethan’s head like it’s second nature—the way it is to me—before shifting him off his lap to stand. “Be back in one second. I’ve got a picture of my brothers in my truck that I want you to see.”
“We’ll meet you inside, it’s getting buggy out here.”
“I wanna see the twuck.”
Simon looks to me for consent first. It surprises and pleases me every time he does it. And I’m sure I’m building this up in my head, but when I nod, he looks at me and smiles in a way that feels special. I physically feel the warmth in my chest.
Crouching down, he offers himself up for a piggy back ride. “Right this way,” he says, and Ethan climbs aboard happily.
Simon walks back inside a few minutes later with a frame in his hand and Ethan still on his back. I’m standing in the kitchen, uncertain of my place, but he beckons me over to the couch once they settle in. I take the seat next to my son, needing to put some space between me and Simon.
“I’m the youngest, this one here,” he says, pointing to a boy who looks to be about five years old. I gasp and cover my mouth, seeing the resemblance I always knew was there, but now shocked by the striking similarity. It’s as if I’m looking at a sun-faded picture of Ethan. “I know, right?” Simon says, taking in my reaction. Looking back to Ethan he continues, “The one in the middle is my brother Michael. He’s the one that loves dogs and cats and chickens and—”
“And por-ca-pines?” Ethan butts in, looking up to Simon smiling.
“He probably would let a porcupine stay at his place if one came knocking on his door.” And Ethan clearly likes that answer. Pointing to the picture again, Simon says, “And this is my oldest brother, Timmy. See, you look like all of us. That’s what happens in families.”
Ethan looks between the picture and Simon. “You’re wittle.”
“I was little when that picture was taken. That was a long time ago. Have you got any pictures of when you were little?”
Ethan’s eyes light up. “My book!” He scrambles off the couch, turning to Simon before he grabs the handrail and heads upstairs. “I get my book.”
I can’t help but call out, “Be careful on the stairs.”
“That’s like a reflex for you.”
“Can’t help it. I probably saythat’s dangerousorbe carefultwenty times a day.” My eyes drift back down to where the picture sits. “I always thought he looked like you, but seeing that picture is...”
He picks up where I trail off. “Crazy, yeah. Now I know what people mean when they use that phrase, the spitting image.”
“Yeah.” A knot forms in my stomach. “Hey, maybe I’ll let you do this with him alone. He loves narrating a little show and tell with his baby book, and I think, ah, I think...” He reaches over and squeezes my hand. His touch gives me strength, so I take a deep breath and level with him. “I imagine you’re going to hate me in a couple of minutes. I just hope you know I never wanted you to miss out on any of this, Simon.”
He nods, releasing my hand.
“I’m going to tidy up the kitchen.” I direct the comment to Ethan, but he pays me no mind as he races back over to the couch, squeezing in close to Simon as he opens the book across their laps.
I brace my hands against the countertop when I hear Ethan’s opening line.
“See this? I in Mommy’s tummy.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Simon
