Chapter 19 - THE NEXT CHRISTMAS
One year after David came through the back door, snow covered the same wooden steps.
The house looked different.
The kitchen had been repainted.
The broken stool was gone.
David burned it in the backyard months earlier.
Maya chose the new kitchen chairs herself.
Bright blue.
"They're ugly," I told her.
"That's why I like them."
She was seven now and had discovered sarcasm.
David blamed me.
Eli toddled through the house carrying wrapping paper in both fists.
Sarah arrived at noon for Christmas lunch.
Her visits were no longer supervised, though overnight custody had not yet resumed.
She brought one present for each child and nothing extravagant.
Maya opened a science kit.
"You remembered!"
Sarah smiled.
"I remember more now."
There was pain behind the sentence.
But no demand for comfort.
After dinner, Maya carried her plate toward the sink.
David said, "Leave it."
She stopped.
"But I can wash it."
"I know."
"Then why can't I?"
He smiled.
"Because you're seven and your job today is to beat Aunt Emily at cards."
"Easy."
"Excuse me?" I said.
Maya laughed and ran into the living room.
Sarah watched her go.
"She looks happy."
David nodded.
"She is getting there."
Sarah looked at the sink.
"I think about that stool every day."
"Good."
She looked at him, surprised.
"Not because I want you suffering," he said. "Because forgetting would be dangerous."
Sarah nodded.
"I won't forget."
Neither of them pretended that sentence fixed everything.
Later, while the kids played, David handed me a small box.
Inside was his father's Ranger tab, restored to its old display.
"Why are you showing me?"
"Because last year I thought getting this back would make me feel whole."
"Did it?"
May you like
He watched Maya laughing on the carpet.
"No. That did.
