Page 29 of Chosen Road

I picked Alex up from school every day that week and the next, dropping him off at Amber’s at dinnertime on the nights he stayed with her. Sitting in the car outside her rental that first time marked one of the most difficult moments in my life.

“Okay, buddy. You remember which one it is?” I pointed towards the units. “Coming from this side, it’s the fourth door over. Looks like Momma put some flowers on your porch. Do you see them?”

I was so busy pointing out the correct door, I failed to notice that my chatty boy had fallen silent. I turned towards him to find his little face distorted in a pained grimace, his mouth open in a silent cry, his head tipped back against the head rest.

I unclicked my seatbelt and reached for him, pulling him across the seat and into my arms. The movement released the breath he’d been holding and with his breath came a sound of despair that sent a lightning bolt of grief to my soul.

Over the following weeks and months, that sound, along with Amber’s weeping and keening in my arms on our last day, formed the soundtrack to my nightly musings.

“Okay, buddy,” I murmured against his hair. “It’s going to be okay. I promise you. We’ll make it okay. I’ll make it okay. I love you so much, little man.”

I rocked him back and forth in my arms until he quieted, and then I held him some more.

After several moments, he wheezed, “Dad, you’re squeezing me too tight.”

I loosened my hold and pulled back to look at him. He looked back at me, and a mixture of pain and wonder swirled in his eyes.

“Your heart hurts, too.”

“Yeah, buddy. It does,” I confirmed gruffly.

His eyebrows shot down. “Why is Momma doing this?” he demanded angrily.

Palming his head, I turned him to look at me. “Listen closely, son. Momma is not doing this. Momma and I are doing this, and I have to believe it’s the right thing to do.”

“It doesn’t feel right,” he protested.

I nodded. “You’re right. It doesn’t, but hopefully it will help set things right between Momma and me.”

I texted Amber to give her a heads-up as he made his way inside. I pulled my car deeper into the lot out of sight of Amber’s windows, and when I stopped crying, I headed back to the house that was no longer home.

One week later, at seven o’clock in the morning, Alex called me.

“Dad?”

He sounded panicked. “Yes, son? What’s wrong?”

“Um… I’m not sure. Momma can’t get out of bed.”

“I’ll be right there.”

My heart skittered in my chest as I drove. Was she sick? Was it her heart? Couldn’t be. That would be way too big of a coincidence.

I pulled into the first available spot and ran up the path to the open doorway where Alex stood waiting.

“Hey, buddy. Is Momma up yet?”

“No.” His face was stark white, his eyes huge. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

I pushed past him and shut the door. “Is she in her bedroom buddy?”

We passed the first two doors, and I opened the last door to find the room dark and Amber lying motionless under the covers. I flicked on the overhead light and rushed to the side of the bed.

“Amber? Honey? Are you okay?”

My wife lay staring into space, her eyes swollen, dried tears evident on her face, and my heart exploded. She was grieving.

“Alex, I’m going to take care of Mommy. Aunt Ruby will swing by to pick you up for school.

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