Chapter 2 - The One Who Remembered
I didn't move at first. I just sat still and listened.
The footsteps were soft. Careful, almost, like whoever it was didn't want to spook me.
Then my youngest, Cole, stepped into the kitchen doorway.
He still had his work jacket on. One hand held a plastic grocery bag; the other held a bunch of flowers from the gas station, the crinkly cellophane still wrapped around the stems.
He looked at the cupcake. At the candle standing there unlit. At me, alone in the quiet with a fork on the floor by my chair.
For a second he didn't say anything at all.
Then: "Mom. How long have you been sitting here like this?"
I tried for a smile. "Not long."
He set the flowers on the counter and pulled out the chair across from me, the legs scraping the floor.
"Derek and Grant didn't come."
It wasn't a question.
"They're busy," I said.
Cole gave me a look — the look you give somebody when you catch them lying to protect people who don't deserve it.
He reached into the grocery bag and came out with a cheap plastic lighter. He leaned over and lit the candle.
"Make a wish," he said, quiet.
I stared at that little flame and felt thirty years press down on my chest all at once, like a hand.
I was leaning in to blow it out when my phone buzzed again.
May you like
Another text. This one from Grant.
I read it. And my hand went still on the table.
