later.
On the drive home, I cried.
Exactly as Julian predicted.
He never said I told you so.
He simply held my hand across the center console.
“Is it like that every week?”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Sometimes his dad doesn’t come.”
He paused.
“Those weeks are harder.”
“How do you keep doing it?”
Julian thought for a moment.
Then repeated the words I had once given him.
“Nobody should have to wait for someone who might never come.”
I nodded.
“I remember.”
“I can’t fix Theo’s father.”
He squeezed my hand.
“I can’t fix transportation. Recovery. Custody. Any of it.”
Then he looked at me.
“But while Theo is waiting, I can make sure he isn’t waiting alone.”
The paper crown hangs on our refrigerator now.
Held up by a sunflower magnet.
KING DINOSAUR.
The GREAT JOB sticker is still peeling off one corner.
Julian once tried removing
