Chapter 2
I bought pancake mix on the way home, though I already had some in the cupboard.
Eli asked for the box with the cartoon bear. Ava chose strawberries. For a few minutes, they argued about whether a pancake shaped like a heart still counted if one side was crooked.
I let them argue.
Their voices filled my apartment, and I wanted them to feel free to be children in it.
At the kitchen table, Ava drew while Eli measured the milk. He poured too quickly and splashed some on the counter.
“Sorry,” he said, going still.
“It’s milk,” I told him. “We have a cloth.”
He cleaned it up, but he kept glancing at me. I had seen that look when he expected a lecture. I couldn’t tell whether it had anything to do with the morning, so I didn’t ask.
While the pancakes cooked, Ava held up her drawing. It showed three people in my car and one person on a porch.
“Is that Mom?” I asked.
She nodded. “She was sad.”
I turned off the stove for a moment. “Did she tell you that?”
“She cried last night. She thought we were asleep.”
Eli stared at his hands. “She cries on Fridays now.”
I carried the pancakes to the table. “You can tell me when you’re worried about her.”
Eli looked up. “Will you tell her we said that?”
“I won’t go repeating what you say just because I’m upset. But if one of you needs help, I may have to talk to her so we can help you.”
He thought about it, then reached for the syrup.
After breakfast, we called my mother. She had promised to come to the park with us, and Ava wanted to remind her to bring the kite. Before hanging up, Mom asked to speak to me alone.
“Is everything all right?” she asked when I stepped into the hall.
“I’ll tell you later.”
“That sounds like no.”
“The kids are safe. We’re going to the park.”
I heard her take a breath. “All right. I’ll see you there.”
The park gave the children something to do with their hands and feet. Eli raced Mom to the swings. Ava made me hold the kite while she decided which way the wind was blowing.
I kept replaying the porch conversation. I wanted to call Nia and demand an explanation. Every time I reached for my phone, I saw Ava’s face when she asked if I would always come.
The children needed a calm weekend. I could wait a few hours to argue.
That evening, Eli helped me set the table. Ava sat on the rug with a book from school. When she got to the last page, she brought it over and climbed into my lap.
The book ended with a girl going home after a long trip.
“Which home is mine?” Ava asked.
I looked at her. “Both of them.”
She traced a line along the book’s cover. “Mom says her house is our real home.”
“Nia’s house is your home,” I said. “This one is too. You have a bed here and people who love you here.”
She leaned against me.
“Do you believe that?” I asked.
“Yes.” She hesitated. “I think so.”
I wanted to ask everything at once. I kept my questions small.
“Has somebody told you that you might not be able to come here?”
“Mom said we shouldn’t get used to things.”
“What things?”
“She didn’t say.”
I felt a cold knot form in my stomach. “Thank you for telling me.”
Ava closed the book. “Is Mom in trouble?”
“No, sweetheart. Grown-ups are going to sort out the grown-up things.”
She studied my face, as if checking whether I meant it. Then she asked for another story.
After they were asleep, I sat at the kitchen table and opened the calendar on my phone.
I wrote down the date and what had happened on the porch. I added the words I remembered the children using, making sure I kept their words separate from my guesses. I found the message from Thursday confirming the pickup time.
Then I called Nia.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Are they asleep?”
“Yes. They had a good day.”
A pause. “Good.”
“I want to understand what happened this morning.”
“I said I was overwhelmed.”
“I heard that. Tell me what changed between Thursday and today.”
I listened to her breathing.
“Eli’s teacher called yesterday,” she said. “He got upset at school.”
“What happened?”
“He told another boy you’d forgotten him.”
I gripped the phone. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want another fight.”
“I could have talked to him.”
“You think every conversation fixes things.”
“No. I think he needed both of us.”
Nia said nothing.
“Did the teacher tell you why he thought I’d forgotten him?” I asked.
“He said you missed his assembly.”
The assembly. I had arrived late because a delivery truck broke down at work. By the time I reached the school, Eli’s class had already finished singing. I’d found him afterward, apologized, and taken him out for ice cream. I had thought we were all right.
“I told him I was sorry,” I said.
“I know. But he cried about it again yesterday.”
I softened my voice. “Then we should talk about it together. I don’t want him carrying that alone.”
“I said something stupid,” Nia whispered.
“I know.”
“I didn’t mean to tell them you didn’t want them.”
“But they heard it. We have to fix that.”
There was a long silence.
“I’ll speak to them tomorrow,” she said.
“Together,” I replied. “When I bring them home.”
She agreed, though I could hear how hard it was for her.
I put my phone down and sat in the quiet apartment. The assembly explained one part of Eli’s worry. It didn’t explain Ava’s drawing or Nia’s words about not getting used to my home.
The next morning, Eli came into the kitchen before his sister woke. He watched me make coffee, then asked if we could talk.
“Always.”
He sat at the table. “Mom didn’t know I was awake when she called Grandma.”
“What did you hear?”
He rubbed the seam of his sleeve.
“She said she was scared you’d take us away. Grandma told her to make sure we knew who was there for us.”
I pulled out the chair beside him.
“Eli, did Grandma say what she meant?”
He shook his head.
I wanted to tell him there was no chance of anyone taking him away. But I had no idea what Nia feared, and I wouldn’t make a promise based on a guess.
“You should never have to choose who loves you,” I said. “Your mom is there for you. I am too.”
May you like
Eli nodded.
Then he asked, “Does Grandma know that?”
