“Daddy, did you see the room that Uncle Finn said can be mine?” Andy asks as I assist him into pajamas. Somehow, he caught a second wind on the ride home from the cook-out and hasn’t stopped talking since we left. He’s so excited to have a sleepover eventually at his godfather’s house.
“I saw it. It’s nice.” It’s really just their guest room, but Lauren had apparently bought a Toy Story blanket and a few things for him to help him feel at ease there.
“And he said that I could bring some toys over and leave them there. Which toys do you think I should take?” He finally climbs into bed.
“All right, champ, how about we table that conversation for another time? It’s been a long day, and we have a lot to do tomorrow before Daddy starts work on Monday.” The number of boxes left to unpack has my brain and muscles ready to explode.
“Do you need to leave me?” His voice is soft, and his bottom lip trembles. The unshed tears in his eyes make my shoulders deflate and my chest ache.
“I’ll be back, I promise. And you know Uncle Finn’s mom, Ms. Denise, and your friend Liam will also be there.”
“Yeah, she gives me yummy treats. I’m sad Mr. Griffin went to keep Mommy company.” Me too, buddy.
I lean down and press my lips to his forehead. “Good night, buddy. I’m right down the hall if you need me.”
He nods and settles under the covers, getting comfortable. I turn to walk away, but his soft voice forces me to stop midway to the door.
“Daddy, do you kiss someone like Uncle Finn does?”
I close my eyes and curse under my breath at my best friend for planting shit like this in my child’s head. “Umm, I used to kiss your mommy like that. Her kisses always made me feel better.”
“Like when you kiss my booboos?” He looks down at the scrape on his arm that he got earlier today when chasing Emme around.
“Exactly.”
He remains quiet, so I assume the conversation is over.
“Do you think Mommy has cupcakes where she is?”
I’m surprised by his question. I grip the back of my neck, unsure what to say or where that is even coming from. It’s not uncommon for him to bring up his mom. As painful as it might be, I want him to know his mother since that chance was taken from us. I’m always open when he asks questions about her or wants me to tell him stories about her. I close the distance between us and sit on the edge of his bed.
“Umm, I don’t know. Why do you ask?”
“Well, Uncle Finn called those cupcakes today heavenly, and I was wondering if maybe angels made them where Mommy is.” He shrugs, and my heart squeezes at the innocence in his eyes.
I’m rendered speechless. The older Andy gets, the more I’m at a loss for words on some of the things he asks. It’s not as simple as “where is Mommy?” He’s so smart for his age, and honestly, how can I answer this question when I don’t understand it myself?
Why was Courtney ripped from our lives before she ever got to hold our son? My voice catches in my throat for a moment, and I swallow it down. I can keep it together until I am out of his view.
“I’m sure they have them.” Andy smiles, satisfied with my simple answer, and I let out a harsh breath of relief.
He rolls over to face the framed photo of Courtney on the nightstand. It was one of the first things he wanted to unpack in his room.
“Good night, Mommy. I hope you have those cupcakes because they were so yummy.”
He then rolls back over and hugs his Buzz Lightyear stuffed toy tighter.
“Good night, Daddy. Love you,” he singsongs.
“Good night, Andy. Sweet dreams.”
I flick the light off and partially close the door, just enough to block out the light from the hallway. I head to my bedroom and maneuver around the piles of boxes to sit on the edge of the bed, resting my head in my hands. Today has been physically exhausting, but that small conversation was emotionally exhausting to last a lifetime. I wonder when or if those conversations will ever get easier.
It’s when the silence surrounds me that I’m reminded of the pain. It’s these moments that I allow myself to wallow in the grief I let no one else see.
I fall back on the bed, completely drained, and cover my eyes with my forearm.
I miss you. I picture her lying beside me. Whenever I would have a bad day, this is what we would do. I would tell her my problems, and then her response would be It’s okay. You survived another day. What I wouldn’t give to hear her voice say those words.
After a few calming breaths, I rise and get to work to set up the life I’ve set for my son.