Chapter 7
When Lena recovered, she invited me to Sunday dinner.
At her apartment.
It was not a dramatic reunion. She sent a message asking whether I liked chicken with lemon. I said yes, though I would have eaten anything.
I arrived with bread from June’s diner and a small box of strawberries.
Noah opened the door.
“Grandpa!”
He said it before stopping to look behind him.
Lena stood in the kitchen.
“It’s all right,” she told him.
I could not answer immediately.
Noah frowned.
“Did I say it wrong?”
“No.”
I bent to hug him.
“You said it perfectly.”
He led me to the table.
Three places were set.
A fourth plate sat on the counter for leftovers. The room was small, the chairs did not match, and I had never felt more honored by an invitation.
During dinner, Noah asked why I had not known he existed.
Lena set down her fork.
“We need to answer that carefully.”
“I can listen.”
She looked at me.
I nodded.
“Your mom and I argued before you were born,” I said. “I said something that made her feel she couldn’t come to me.”
“What?”
“I told her she had to make the choice I wanted if she came home.”
“About Dad?”
“Yes.”
He considered it.
“Was that fair?”
“No.”
Lena watched me.
“Did you say sorry?”
“Yes. I’m also trying to act differently.”
Noah turned to his mother.
“Did you know he wanted you back?”
“Not until recently.”
“Then why didn’t he tell you?”
I looked at the plate in front of me.
“Because I let pride stop me from doing the right thing.”
Noah sat quietly.
Then he said, “You should call when you miss someone.”
“Yes.”
It was advice a nine-year-old should never have needed to give me.
After dinner, he showed me his bedroom.
The bridge stood on a shelf.
The Family Day photograph was beside it.
He had circled each paper badge in blue marker.
“I counted them again,” he said.
“Still forty-seven?”
“Still forty-seven.”
He pointed at the space beneath the frame.
“I’m keeping the money here.”
The seven dollars lay in a small envelope.
“Why?”
“So I remember.”
I looked at him.
“I hope you remember you didn’t need it.”
He smiled.
“I know now.”
Two weeks later, Gus went into the hospital for planned surgery on his knee.
Noah asked whether he could make a card.
He drew a motorcycle with one enormous wheel and wrote that Gus could borrow his repaired wooden car until he walked better.
Gus laughed so hard the nurse reminded him to breathe.
Lena brought Noah for a short visit with Gus’s family’s permission. I stayed beside them.
Noah watched the monitor near the bed.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“The doctors expect me to,” Gus said.
“Will you come to my science thing?”
“When is it?”
“Next month.”
“I might still be moving slowly. But I’ll tell you honestly.”
Noah nodded.
I admired Gus for that answer.
We were building trust with ordinary truth, not grand promises.
On the way home, Noah asked whether he could help bring food when Gus returned.
Lena said yes.
The boy who tried to hire support was learning he could offer it too.
Meanwhile, Derek missed two scheduled contacts.
One came with an excuse. The other came with nothing.
Noah waited beside Lena’s phone until she gently explained they would continue their evening.
He did not cry.
That worried me more.
Later, he asked whether forty-seven people would stop coming if he became boring.
I sat beside him on the library floor.
“What makes you think you’re boring?”
“I don’t have a school thing all the time.”
“We don’t need an event to like you.”
“But you came for Family Day.”
“And I came for chicken. And a book. And to hear about your bridge.”
He looked at me.
“You came for Mom too.”
“Yes.”
He leaned against my arm.
“I like that.”
The next morning, I called Lena without needing a reason.
She answered, surprised.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes. I miss you.”
There was a long silence.
Then she said, “Come by after work. We have leftover chicken.”
May you like
I smiled.
“I’ll be there.”
