Page 13 of All of Me

Perhaps this is even the start of a friendship between us…

Sabrina’s eyes meet mine, gratitude in her gaze. She nods, pressing her lips together as if she’s holding back words she isn’t ready to share. Ruby lets out a tiny sigh, her little body relaxing against Sabrina’s chest. I smile at the sight.

Her smile widens as the tension in her shoulders starts to ease. “Thank you, Callie,” she murmurs. “I needed to hear that today.”

A quiet understanding passes between us. As much as I’ve worried about this interaction, it feels like we’ve reached an unspoken truce. Maybe it’s the shared experience of parenting, or the realization that we are both doing the best we can with the cards we’ve been dealt.

“I should get going before Ruby decides she’s really awake,” I say. Sabrina hands her back carefully.

“Have a good Thanksgiving,” Sabrina says, her voice lighter now. “And tell Owen to get some rest. It sounds like he’s been burning the candle at both ends.”

I laugh, nodding as I adjust Ruby against my shoulder. “I’ll try. You know how stubborn he can be.”

She smirks, “Oh, trust me, I know. That’s why I said you have to tell him to get some rest. He listens to you. If I told him, he’d probably pick up an extra shift just to spite me.”

I laugh, “You’re probably right. Thanks for letting me stick around and chat for a bit. I don’t get much time with grown-ups these days.”

“Anytime. This was nice.”

I settle into the driver’s seat and glance at Barrett in the rearview mirror. He blows his mom a goodbye kiss before we drive away. When he turns back around, his small face is thoughtful with his brows furrowed slightly.

“Callie?” he asks quietly, his voice uncertain. “Is my mommy okay?”

The question catches me off guard and brings tears to my eyes. I pause for a moment, unsure how to respond. I don’t want him to worry, but I also don’t want to dismiss his concerns. I glance back at the rearview mirror where Sabrina still stands on the porch, her arms wrapped tightly around herself with her oversized sweater hanging loosely off one shoulder.

“I think so, buddy,” I answer, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Why do you ask?”

“She seemed kinda sad,” he mumbles, twiddling his thumbs.

My heart tightens; I take a steadying breath before replying. “I think she’s just really tired. Being a grown-up can be hard sometimes, and she has a lot on her mind, but that doesn’t mean something is wrong. Your mommy is very strong, and she loves you so much.”

Barrett’s face brightens with a proud smile. “My mommy’s a superhero!” he declares with a child’s confidence.

“She sure is, kiddo,” I reply laughing, his enthusiasm lifting the weight of the moment.

He glances at me, eyes wide with sincerity. “I think you and my dad are superheroes too,” he adds.

The warmth of his words washes over me, and I swipe away the tear sliding down my cheek. The last thing I want is for him to see me cry and think I’m upset. “Thank you, Barrett,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. He tilts his head, considering something for a moment.

“Do you think Alex is a superhero too?” he asks, his tone more curious than certain.

I choose my words carefully, diplomatically. “I suppose he could be,” I reply.

Barrett scrunches his nose, the wheels in his little head clearly turning. “I don’t know…” he muses, tapping his chin dramatically. “I think only parents can be superheroes.”

I can’t help but laugh at his declaration, glancing at him through the rearview mirror. “Oh yeah? And what makes a parent a superhero?”

A cheeky grin lights up his face. “They take care of their kids, even when it’s hard. Like you and Dad and Mommy do.”

His words hit me square in the chest. and I’m at a complete loss. “You’re pretty smart, you know that?” I manage, my voice soft but steady.

Barrett beams, clearly pleased with himself. “That’s because I have superheroes teaching me,” he says matter-of-factly.

His words linger in the air as we drive, filling the car with a warmth I hadn’t realized I needed. Barrett’s simple, heartfelt observation feels like a tiny reprieve from the chaos. I glance at him again in the rearview mirror, watching him shift his attention to the window, humming a tune under his breath.

“Superheroes teaching you, huh?” I tease. “Well, you’re doing a pretty great job learning.”

He giggles his little infectious laugh. “That’s because I’m going to be a superhero too one day,” he says with absolute certainty.

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