Once the bags are packed, Sam opens a little bag of Cheetos and digs in.
“Those are for the kids,” I remind him.
“Quality control,” he says with a wink and munches happily. “Okay, now what?”
“I have these chalkboards,” I say and walk to the closet where I stowed them. “We have to fill in these blanks.”
“How do we know how tall they are?” he asks and blinks at me.
“I started measuring them,” I answer and show him the place on the pantry doorjamb where I’ve made marks with a pencil, noting the name and date next to it. “We’ll use the most recent one. They’ve grown more than an inch in the past couple of months.”
“They grow like weeds,” he says.
“We’ll have to fill out some of this in the morning because I forgot to ask them the questions. Like, what they want to be when they grow up.”
“You’ll have to write it. I have horrible chicken scratch.”
“My right hand is injured.”
“So?”
“I’m right-handed.”
His eyes go wide, and then he cringes. “Okay, we’ll make it work.”
I yawn and glance at the clock. “I think we have it handled. I’m going to bed. Let me grab you some linens for the couch. Actually, you can go home and just come back in the morning if you want.”
“I’ll sack out here. No sense going home for just a few hours, only to turn around and come back. Besides, I hate my rental. It’s full of wall-to-wall boxes between my stuff and Monica’s. It’s not homey like this.”
“I’m sorry.” I shake my head when he narrows his eyes at me. “I know, you don’t want or need my apology, but I’m sorry anyway. That you had to pass on the other job, right after you sold your house. And that you had to hurry up and rent something else. It’s just a big mess.”
“I didn’t pass on the job,” he says, surprising me.
“What? But you’re still here.”
“Of course, I am.” He runs his hand through his hair and pitches the empty chip bag into the trash. “Like you said, it’s been a mess. I don’t know what’s going to happen, or how it’ll all shake out, but they held the job for me for six months.”
“Oh.” I swallow the lump in my throat. I thought that with us co-parenting the kids, Sam would have passed on the job.
Does this mean he’ll take off in a few months to live a new life in Spokane, leaving me here with the kids?
He could.
And it sounds like he might.
“Like I said, I don’t know what’ll happen. But I didn’t want to close that door completely.”
“Sure.” I nod and offer him a fake smile. “I get it. I’m headed to bed. There are extra blankets and pillows in the hall linen closet.”
“Are you okay?”
“Of course. Just tired as always, these days. And the medicine is probably kicking in. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I hurry out of the kitchen and make a beeline for my bedroom. I never shut my door all the way because I want to be able to hear the kids.
But I want to tonight. I want to close it and have a good cry. If Sam leaves town for that job, I’ll lose one more person who means something to me. Maybe not permanently, but if he doesn’t live here, it won’t be the same.
It’s another thing to grieve.
And I’ve had my fill of grief—enough to last a decade.
It takes me longer than usual to change into a nightgown because of my sore hand, and when I finally get into bed, I discover that Kelsey has managed to angle herself over the entire King-sized mattress.
How that’s possible, I have no idea.
I nudge her over to the side and slip between the sheets. Thanks to the medicine, my eyes are heavy, and my brain is foggy. I’ve just turned over to drift off when a little arm slips around mine, and Kelsey rests her head against my shoulder.
“Night, Mama.”
My eyes open, and I stare at the ceiling for what feels like an hour.
I know she’s asleep and didn’t know what she was saying. She won’t remember it tomorrow.
But man, it breaks my heart.
I miss your mama, I think to myself. I miss her so very much.
* * *
“Shh, Uncle Sam said not to wake her up.”
“But we have to. We have to go to school.”
I wait just a heartbeat and then sit up really fast and yell, “Boo!”
The twins giggle, and Kevin jumps up onto the bed with me, bouncing a couple of times.
“You’re already dressed.” I frown at them both. “And your hair is combed.”
“Uncle Sam helped,” Kelsey says. “He said we should be quiet and let you sleep because of your hand. Does it still hurt?”
Like a bitch.
“Yeah, a little.”
“You didn’t follow orders,” Sam accuses as he marches into the room. “I turned my back for twenty seconds.”