I talked to my mother because Noah shouldn't hear every difficult conversation.
Some work calls couldn't be avoided.
Talking to the nurses was responsible.
Getting food was necessary.
But Noah wasn't finished.
"You come here all the time," he said. "But when it's quiet, you always leave."
I couldn't answer.
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Because suddenly I saw myself the way my son had been seeing me.
Always moving.
Always finding something useful to do.
Anything except sitting beside Emma when there was nothing between us but silence.
Noah lowered his voice.
"I think you're scared she's gonna remember."
My entire body went still.
"Remember what?"
He looked toward Emma.
"You guys fighting."
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For a moment, I couldn't hear anything except the monitor.
"When did you hear us fighting?"
"Before you went on your trip."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
I had told myself Noah was upstairs.
