Chapter 4
Friday, I arrived fifteen minutes early.
Lena chose the public library. I understood why. It was familiar, bright, and full of people. She could leave whenever she wanted.
Noah carried the bridge in a shoebox.
He set it on a table with a handwritten sign.
Please do not touch the supports.
I obeyed.
He showed me where the tape had loosened. I asked whether he wanted advice or help repairing it.
“Advice first,” he said.
Lena noticed the question.
I noticed her noticing.
We spent forty minutes fixing the bridge. Then Noah showed me a book about engines he had checked out.
He asked why motorcycles leaned when they turned.
I explained as simply as I could.
He listened, then asked a question that showed I had not explained it well enough.
Lena laughed.
“He does that.”
“I remember somebody else who did.”
Her expression changed.
I did not push the memory farther.
When Noah went to choose another book, Lena told me a parent had posted the courtyard photograph online.
“It’s spreading.”
“I’m sorry if that creates trouble.”
“The principal asked permission for the school photograph. I agreed. I didn’t expect someone else to post it with a story.”
“What story?”
“That Noah bought a new family.”
My chest tightened.
“He didn’t buy anything.”
“I know.”
She took out her phone.
The caption praised the riders but described Lena as absent and Noah as abandoned.
She had worked a shift, arranged an hour away, and come.
Now strangers were congratulating us while erasing her.
“I’ll speak to the club,” I said. “We can correct anything our members share. We can ask the school to remind people about privacy.”
“Please do.”
That evening, our club page posted only with Lena’s approval.
Noah’s mother had arranged his care and supported the visit. The riders attended as community friends. We asked people to remove unauthorized pictures and stop inventing details.
Several did.
Not everyone.
Derek saw one.
He called Lena that night.
She told me two days later, while Noah played on the library computer nearby.
“He says I’m humiliating him.”
“He hasn’t been showing up.”
“I said that.”
“What does he want?”
“To see Noah. Immediately.”
I looked at her.
“Do you want me involved?”
“I want you to know he might contact you.”
I nodded.
She explained the current arrangement. Contact was meant to be scheduled. There had been past incidents that led to limits, and she had documentation.
I did not ask why she had not told me sooner.
I was grateful she was telling me now.
Derek came to my repair shop Monday morning.
He was thirty-two, dressed neatly, with the smile I remembered from the boy who used to wait outside our house.
“You’ve got quite a fan club,” he said.
I kept the counter between us.
“What do you need?”
“I’m Noah’s father.”
“I know.”
“Then stay out of it.”
“Out of what?”
“My family.”
I set down the invoice in my hand.
“I attended a school event with his mother’s permission.”
“You made me look bad.”
“I didn’t mention you.”
He leaned closer.
“You’re not going to replace me.”
“That’s up to the kind of father you choose to be. I’m not taking applications.”
His smile vanished.
I regretted the sharpness. Not because he deserved politeness without limits, but because Lena and Noah would carry whatever I made worse.
I kept my voice level.
“Speak with Lena through the arrangements already in place. Don’t use me to argue with her.”
He left.
I wrote down what happened and told Lena.
She thanked me for not going after him.
“I wanted to,” I admitted.
“I know.”
She looked relieved that I did not pretend to be a saint.
Two days later, Derek appeared at Noah’s school.
He had not arranged pickup. The office did not release Noah. They called Lena and followed the instructions she had provided.
Noah saw him through the window.
That night, he asked his mother whether the riders had made Dad angry.
Lena called me after bedtime.
“He thinks it’s his fault.”
“It isn’t.”
“I told him.”
“What do you need?”
She was quiet for a moment.
“Could you come to the library Saturday? Just like before. He needs something normal.”
“I’ll be there.”
After the call, I sat alone in the shop.
Showing up had been easy when it meant forty-seven bikes and a boy’s astonished face.
Now it meant being careful when I was angry.
May you like
It meant following Lena’s lead.
It meant keeping a Saturday promise when the cameras were gone.
