Page 65 of At First Flight
We wish you were home too. It’s been quiet, like the kind where it makes you wonder if something is missing…or a child is silently destroying something.
Dean:
Were they?
Ghost Girl:
I can confirm it was not the latter.
Annoyed by her contact name, I quickly go in and edit to her real name.
Dean:
I left you a note, did you find it?
Lila:
I did and read it twice.
I should probably be embarrassed that I told you that, huh?
I smile, knowing that the letter consisted of nothing more than a few sentences, telling her how amazing she was. Overstepping the boss bounds, definitely, but knowing that she needed to hear from someone not family that she’s incredible is worth every inch.
Lila:
Did you mean it?
Dean:
Of course. You know I never say (or write) anything I don’t mean.
Lila:
Thank you.
Dean:
You’re welcome. And I hope you realize I wasn’t just referring to your job. I mean you as a person. You’re incredible.
Three dots light up on the screen, dissipate, then reveal themselves again. My palms start sweating, nearly dropping the phone onto my lap.
Lila:
You’re so honest. And kind. And I haven’t had a lot of that these past couple of years.
Dean:
I meant every word.
How are the kids?
Lila:
I stare at the two cherubic faces squished up against Lila’s hips on her bed, both of their stuffies wedged beneath their arms.
They miss you too. Evelyn woke up asking for her mom.
