I remembered him saying almost the same thing to me.
You don’t have to disappear into taking care of me.
Different traps.
The same door.
“He offered to help me find somewhere,” Chloe continued.
“I said he didn’t understand.
He told me maybe he didn’t, but he could listen.”
She wiped her eyes.
“I kept thinking I had more time.”
We sat in silence.
Then I asked the question I had carried since we were children.
“Did you ever miss me?”
She covered her face.
“Yes.”
“Then say something you remember.”
She looked up, startled.
“About me.”
For a moment I thought she couldn’t.
Then she whispered, “You couldn’t say spaghetti.”
My throat closed.
“You called it basketti.
Dad got mad when I said it too.
So we called it noodles at dinner, and basketti when he wasn’t there.”
I remembered.
Not clearly.
Enough.
