Chapter 431
Mia’s POV
“Ethan-“I start, but he’s not deterred.
“It’s a logical question. You were married, then you weren’t, and now you’re sitting on the floor together and Mama was crying and Dad was holding her. That seems like married people behavior. When Mr. Peterson next door got back together with his wife after they separated, they sat on their porch together a lot p>
“You’re very observant,” Kyle says carefully.
“I pay attention to patterns. So are you p>
Kyle looks at me and I look at him. How do you explain to a five–year–old?
“Because people need time to figure things out,” I finally say.
“How much time p>
“I don’t know p>
“A day? A week? A month? A year p>
“Maybe longer than that p>
Madison speaks up softly. “A year is forever p>
“It’s not forever,” Ethan corrects automatically. “It’s three hundred and sixty–five days. Or three hundred and sixty–six in a leap year p>
“That’s still a lot of days,” Madison insists.
Kyle’s hand is still in Alexander’s hair, moving in that automatic gesture. “What if we didn’t worry about time right now?” he suggests slowly. “What if we just took it one day at a time p>
“One day at a time,” Alexander repeats, testing the phrase. “Like counting p>
“Sort of p>
“I like counting. I can count to one hundred. Want to hear p>
“Maybe later,” I say quickly, because once Alexander starts counting to one hundred there’s no stopping him. “Can I count the days on a calendar?” he asks instead. “With stickers p>
“Sure,” Kyle says.
“Different colored stickers for different kinds of days p>
Kyle’s mouth twitches. “What kinds of days p>
And now Alexander is off and running, his hands gesturing as he gets more animated. “Happy days could be yellow, sad days could be blue, regular days could be white, days when Dad visits could be green, days when Dad doesn’t visit could be… um… gray? And days when we all have dinner together should be special stickers! Like gold ones or sparkly ones! And p>
“Buddy,” Kyle says gently, “that’s a lot of stickers p>
“I have a lot of stickers. Mama bought me the big pack with two hundred stickers p>
“Two hundred p>
“Uh huh. And I’ve only used like…” He pauses, counting in his head, his lips moving silently. “Like sixty–three. So I have one hundred and thirty–seven left. That’s enough for one hundred and thirty–seven days. I did the math p>
“That’s very good math,” Kyle says with genuine pride.
“Thanks. Mama taught me. Well, and Ethan helped too. He’s really good at math because his brain works like a calculator p>
“Not exactly like a calculator,” Ethan corrects. “Calculators are more accurate. I still make mistakes sometimes.
“Not very often though p>
“No, not very often p>
Kyle’s eyes find mine over Alexander’s head.
“Your mama is very smart,” Kyle says.
“I know. She knows everything,” Alexander says with absolute confidence.
“Not everything,” I protest.
“Almost everything. Except science stuff. That’s Dad’s thing.” He pauses thoughtfully. “And sports. She doesn’t know sports. She called a touchdown a goal last week.
“It was a momentary confusion,” I defend myself.
“It was funny though. Ethan laughed so hard he snorted p>
“I did not snort p>
“You totally snorted. It was like a pig sound p>
“I don’t sound like a pig p>
“You did that day p>
Madison has been quiet during this exchange, her small body still pressed against my side, her hand rubbing a fold in my dress between her fingers in that soothing, repetitive motion she does when she’s thinking. “Mia?” she says quietly.
“Yes, sweetheart p>
“When my daddy died, I didn’t get to say goodbye.” The kitchen goes quiet even though she’s barely whispering.
“I was at school and Mama came to get me and he was already gone p>
My arm tightens around her. “I know, honey. I’m so sorry p>
“I wish I could have. Said goodbye, I mean.” Her fingers keep moving, rubbing the fabric. “But I can’t because he’s gone p>
“I know you do p>
She’s quiet for a moment, then says, “But Kyle isn’t gone yet p>
“Yeah. Dad’s like when your tablet is at two percent battery. You can still use it but you have to be really careful about what you use it for because you don’t have much time left p>
I pat him on the head.
“What? I’m just explaining. It’s true though, right? Dad’s like a tablet at two percent. We should use his time carefully p>
Kyle makes a sound that’s almost a laugh but not quite. “A tablet at two percent. That’s one way to put it p>
“It’s accurate though, isn’t it?” Ethan asks, defensive now.
“Unfortunately, yes p>
“Then Dad’s battery is going to die,” Alexander says, his voice wobbling dangerously. “No no no,” I say quickly. ” Don’t cry, baby p>
“We don’t know that,” I lie, and I hate myself for it.
“But the doctors said p>
“The doctors said maybe. Not definitely. Medicine is complicated and p>
Kyle’s hand finds Alexander’s face and cups his cheek. “Hey. Look at me, buddy p>
Alexander’s eyes swing to his father, wet and scared.
“I’m still here right now. Right this second. I’m still here.“Kyle says, kissing his son on the cheek.