Epilogue: Room for Everybody
The following December, Walter drove to Anaheim in a rented minivan, with a booster seat strapped in the back. He knocked at the door instead of walking in.
“May I take the boy to see the lights?” he asked.
Toby, now five, was already in his coat. “Grandpa! Can we get hot chocolate?”
“Two,” Walter said, and for the first time I saw him smile. “One for each of us.”
I stood in the doorway and watched them pull away, the little face in the back window waving furiously.
That evening, after they came home, Toby sat at the kitchen table drawing. He held up his picture, crayon-bright: a car with every seat filled. A grandfather, a boy, and a woman in the front with her hair blowing back.
“That’s us,” he explained. “And there’s room for everybody.”
“Is there room for Daddy?”
Toby considered it seriously.
“When he learns to share the seats,” he said.
I laughed, and then I hugged him tightly, my chin against his hair.
Grant was learning, slowly. He’d begun showing up on time for visits, sitting through the mediator’s sessions without sneering, and once he’d even brought Toby a stuffed bear with a note that read I’m sorry, buddy. I’m working on it. I didn’t know if we’d ever be friends. I didn’t know if I would ever trust him again.
But I knew what I’d learned in a cab on the way to Disneyland, with my son’s hand in mine and my phone silenced in my coat pocket.
I had spent six years waiting to be chosen.
All it took was choosing us.
Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. All images are for illustration purposes only.
