Chapter 16
Noah decided three weeks before Richard’s next birthday.
“Dad can come.”
Richard looked up from the newspaper.
“How long?”
Noah frowned.
Apparently that was already too much adult organization.
“For cake.”
Miriam, sitting across the breakfast table, hid a smile.
Richard did not.
“Cake means what?”
“Cake.”
Fair.
The therapist helped turn that into something usable.
Mark could attend for thirty minutes.
The visit would remain supervised.
No Claudia.
No business discussion.
No private conversation with Noah unless Noah wanted one.
Richard disliked having rules inside his own birthday dinner.
That was probably why they were useful.
Mark arrived at seven.
No gift.
Richard noticed immediately.
Then realized he was judging the absence of one.
Mark had apparently been advised not to arrive carrying something Noah might feel obligated to accept.
Good.
Noah was under the dining table when Mark entered.
Not hiding.
Looking for a toy car.
Mark stopped near the doorway.
“Hi.”
Noah looked out.
“Hi.”
Then returned to the car.
Richard felt something inside him tighten.
He did nothing.
Five minutes later Noah climbed into his chair.
Mark sat two seats away.
Nobody moved him closer.
Richard’s sister served cake.
Noah took too much frosting.
Mark almost said something.
Richard saw it.
Mark stopped himself.
Good.
Halfway through dessert, Noah asked:
“Do you live in Arizona?”
Mark looked surprised.
“No.”
“Why?”
Because Summit Crest failed.
Because Claudia left.
Because the apartment lease became pointless.
Those were adult answers.
Mark chose a simpler one.
“I decided not to move there.”
Noah thought.
“You were going without me.”
The room became quiet.
Mark’s face changed.
“Yes.”
No explanation.
No:
I thought you were better here.
No grief.
No debt.
Just yes.
Noah pushed frosting across his plate.
“That was mean.”
“Yes.”
Richard looked toward Mark.
His son’s jaw tightened.
Then relaxed.
“Yes,” Mark said again.
Noah ate another bite.
Apparently the conversation was over.
At twenty-eight minutes Mark stood.
“I should go.”
Noah looked at the clock.
“You have two minutes.”
Miriam looked down.
Richard nearly laughed.
Mark sat again.
Two minutes later Noah said:
“Okay.”
Mark left.
No hug.
No request for another visit.
At the door he nodded once toward Richard.
Richard nodded back.
Nothing more.
After dinner, Noah carried both wooden airplanes from the office.
He placed the newer one on the floor.
Then the older one.
Mark had repaired one wing before the first supervised visit.
Richard had repaired the other after Colorado.
Two repairs.
One object.
Noah looked at them.
“Which fix is better?”
Richard immediately wanted to answer.
Then stopped.
“Which do you think?”
Noah examined the glue.
“Yours.”
Richard felt an unreasonable amount of satisfaction.
Then Noah added:
“Dad’s is straighter.”
Miriam laughed from the doorway.
Richard stared at her.
Noah pushed both planes across the rug.
Neither flew.
That did not seem to bother him.
Later, when Richard returned them to the office, he placed them exactly where Noah had left them.
Still a few inches apart.
The birthday visit had not closed the distance.
May you like
It had simply proved Mark could enter the room and leave when Noah was finished.
For now, that was enough.
