“I understand why.”
“I know. I still shouldn’t have.”
***
The next morning, he picked up his laptop and keys.
Same routine.
“I SHOULDN’T HAVE FOLLOWED YOU.”
This time he stopped at the door.
“I’m going to the learning center.”
“Frank?”
“Yeah.”
“Anything you can’t tell me?”
“Most of it.”
“Good.”
“I’M GOING TO THE LEARNING CENTER.”
I pointed toward the counter.
“These actually do need to go with you.”
His medication.
Eliam laughed and pocketed it.
A few days later, he sent me a photograph.
“THESE ACTUALLY DO NEED TO GO WITH YOU.”
Frank sat at a table with his dinosaur lunchbox beside him. His grandson was there too, writing something on a scrap of paper.
Frank leaned toward the words.
Eliam sat several feet away.
Waiting.
FRANK LEANED TOWARD THE WORDS.
I could have enlarged the picture.
I could have texted Eliam and asked what the boy had written.