Sometimes questions I don’t know how to answer.
I tell him what I can.
Tyler and I communicate mostly about school.
Doctor appointments.
Activities.
Pickup times.
Boring things.
I’ve learned to appreciate boring.
I don’t know whether Tyler and Laila will last.
I genuinely don’t care.
A relationship that began with lies is theirs to manage.
My responsibility was rebuilding the life that disappeared somewhere over 30,000 feet.
And I did.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
The drawing Mason made for Tyler is still inside my desk.
He never gave it to him.
Once, I asked if he wanted to throw it away.
He shook his head.
“Maybe I’ll give it to him someday.”
So I kept it.
I think that’s where both of us are now.
We aren’t pretending nothing happened.
We aren’t pretending it didn’t hurt.
We’re simply leaving a little room for someday.
Whatever someday eventually means.
But there is one thing I know for certain.
Mason and I are going to be okay.
