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“Press the paw.” She says with a rare smile, her voice gentler than usual.

I find that one of the paws has a heart-shaped pad instead of a circle like the other. Shifting the soft toy in my hand, I press down on the paw.

From the dragon comes a soft, rhythmic murmur that has me freezing in place. My gaze shoots up to Elsie, who has a broad smile on her face.

“Is this what I think it is?” I ask.

“Depends on what you think it is.” She says, her smile shifting to a soft grin.

“That’s my little girl’s heartbeat,” I reply.

“Marshall.” She scolds. “We don’t know that it’s a girl.”

“I do,” I say confidently, looking down at the dragon again. “That’s the heartbeat. El latido de mi pequeña ciruela azucarada.” My little sugar plum’s heartbeat.

“Yes,” Elsie says softly. “I thought you would want something from that appointment to remember them by. Since you’re going to miss the next one.”

“Yeah. I…” I choke up, holding back the tears that want to come up. “Thank you.”

“You’re gonna be gone a lot during my pregnancy.” Her voice turns more distant. “You’ll miss a lot.”

I nod, thinking of the milestones and moments I’ll be gone for. Doctor’s appointments and pregnancy symptoms. First kicks and sleepless nights.

For the first time, I realize how hard this is going to be.

I like my job, and plenty of people on rigs have families, but I don’t think I ever thought about how hard it would be to be away from them for so much of the year.

“I wanted you to have something of them to keep with you.” She says. “A little reminder for you.”

For the first time since I started working on rigs, I don’t want to leave.

“Thank you, Elsie,” I say softly, trying not to choke up. “This means a lot.”

“You’re welcome.”

I put the dragon on the bed by my pillow and reach for Elsie’s hand.

“Let’s get you home before someone actually does try to throw you overboard, okay?”

“Yeah. Of course.” She says, gathering her bag and tossing it over her shoulder again.

Together, we walk through the ship in silence. When we reach the ramp for her to exit, I squeeze her hand and pull her into me so she’s looking up at me.

“I’m going to miss you, I think,” I murmur.

“Me… I…” She stops herself, and her gaze drops from my own. “I know.”

“Elsie. It’s okay to say you’re going to miss me.”

“Please, don’t. Don’t make this hard.” She interrupts. “Just let me leave, and I’ll see you in 28 days.”

“Okay. Okay.” I say, pushing a lock of hair that’s escaped back behind her ear.

We stand there for a moment, just taking each other in, and I’m grateful when she doesn’t flinch away as I lean down to place a kiss on her forehead.

“28 days,” I promise.

“28 days.” She repeats.

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