Chapter 12 - Coming Home
“What do you need, buddy?”
Noah stared into his room.
His blanket lay across the bed. Bear was tucked against his pillow. Emma’s photograph stood in its new frame.
“Is it a trick?”
I crouched beside him.
“No.”
“She put my stuff back once.”
I waited.
“Then took it when you left.”
I could feel Rachel standing behind us.
I wanted to promise that nothing bad would ever happen again.
Instead, I told him something I could do.
“I’m staying here tonight. Aunt Rachel’s staying too. Claire won’t be coming in.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow too.”
He took one step.
Then another.
At the bed, he touched the blanket with two fingers.
“Can I sleep in your room?”
“Absolutely.”
We carried his pillow down the hall.
For the next week, he slept on a small mattress beside my bed.
Some nights, he woke crying.
Some mornings, he seemed fine until the washing machine started.
Then he would freeze.
We turned it off.
Later, with help, we found ways to make the house feel familiar again. He chose when to look into the laundry room. He chose a blue night-light. He taped a crooked sign to his bedroom door.
KNOCK PLEES.
I knocked every time.
I also changed my work schedule. Not with a grand announcement. I handed off two accounts and stopped pretending every late meeting was unavoidable.
One evening, Noah spilled orange juice across the kitchen table.
He went white.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know.”
He stood so fast his chair scraped the floor.
“I’ll clean. I’ll clean.”
I got a towel and set it beside him.
“We can do it together.”
He watched my face while we wiped.
I kept talking about ordinary things. The weather. His socks. Whether dinosaurs could sneeze.
At last, his shoulders dropped.
Then he said, “I thought you knew.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“About the room.”
His eyes filled.
“She said you told her to.”
I sat on the floor so he wouldn’t have to look up.
“Noah, I didn’t know. But I should have listened better.”
May you like
He rubbed at his cheeks.
“Why didn’t you?”
