“I hear you’re flying home tomorrow,” I said.
“Are you mad at me for taking my son home a week earlier than expected?”
This time I laughed. “I mean, it’s not my favorite thought, but no, of course not. I want you to take care of yourself.”
“You want me to tell him before I leave, don’t you? So you can be there for him in person.”
I nodded.
She looked around the hospital room, her eyes pausing on each of the various machines, then coming to a stop on the IV in her arm. “I can’t tell them here, Norah. Not when this setting will make it feel that much more daunting. I have to wait until we get home.”
“I understand.” And I did. She was right. More than that, this wasn’t about me or what I wanted. It was about her.
She lowered the wind chimes back into the bag and replaced the tissue paper. “Skyler…” She paused as if she had changed her mind in the middle of a thought. “I was going to say he’d understand why you couldn’t tell him. But I actually don’t know how he’ll feel. I guess this will be your first long-distance test.”
“Let’s hope we ace it,” I said.
She reached out for my hand and I provided it for her. “I’m rooting for you.”
“I’m rooting for you.”