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“Why aren’t dinosaurs around anymore?”
Grant paused, his finger hovering over the sheet of paper. “It’s because they all died.”
“That’s sad,” Ron commented without looking up. “Do you think we can bring them back?”
“We probably shouldn’t,” Grant replied, pausing to ruffle Ron’s hair. “When you’re older, you should see the movie,Jurassic Park. You’ll know why.”
Ron glanced up and gave him a bright smile. “Okay. Mommy, when is Bernard coming back?”
I cleared my throat. “He’s still on his business trip, sweetheart, remember?”
“He said he wouldn’t be gone for long,” Ron replied, with a lift of his chin. “He told me he would take me to the amusement park when he got back.”
“I’m sure he will.” I linked my fingers together over the table. “He’s going to call you again later tonight.”
Ron nodded and went back to his coloring sheet.
Conversation rose and fell around us in the restaurant.
I looked around at the rows and rows of families gathered, and my stomach dipped. In the background, shoes squeaked against the hardwood floors, punctuated by the occasional shriek of children’s laughter. Ron glanced over at the children playing in the far corner, and a strange look settled on his face.
“Why don’t you give over there and play with the kids?”
Ron looked up at me, a furrow appearing between his brows. “Why?”
“It could be fun. You can color later.”
Ron hesitated. “You won’t let anyone take my drawing?”
“I won’t. I promise.”
With that, he shot up out of the booth and made a beeline for the back of the restaurant. I watched as he approached the other kids, a bright smile on his face. Immediately, their circle grew bigger as they welcomed him. I breathed a sigh of relief, and my shoulders sagged.
“Taylor’s really late.”
Grant got up and came to sit next to me. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon. Do you want to order some appetizers or something till she gets here?”
I turned to face him, a small smile hovering on the edge of my lips. “Only if you split them with me.”
Grant grinned. “Deal.”
After placing our orders, Grant looked at me directly. “How are things going with Ron’s dad?”
I shrugged and played with a packet of sugar. “Not as good as I’d hoped. I was hoping we would clear the air, but I don’t think it’s going to happen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I’m still sorry.”
“At least he’s still trying to be a part of Ron’s life.”
Although the rift between us grew bigger with each passing day, I was relieved that it didn’t include Ron. Since his departure a few days ago, Bernard called Ron every morning during breakfast and every afternoon before lunch. At night, I held the camera up to Ron’s face as Bernard checked on him and told him stories.
We hadn’t spoken directly in weeks.
I couldn’t help but feel like we were approaching a slow and painful end.
