Page 80 of Before I Let Go

“My kids. They’re honestly the reason I’m even still here.” She looks up with wide eyes, like she’s said something she hadn’t intended to. “I just mean, everyone knows it’s been a hard couple of years. Deja and Kassim, you guys mean everything. I’m grateful for friends who feel like sisters. And I think I’m most grateful for time, which doesn’t always heal all wounds, but teaches us how to be happy again even with our scars.”

Her words drift over us, landing with some even more than others. Carole blinks rapidly, toughing out the threat of tears. Even she couldn’t reach her daughter when Yas was at her lowest point. Seeing Carole here, laughing with Yasmen again, makes this holiday even more special.

“Kassim,” Yasmen says. “Your turn.”

Kassim sits up straighter, and you’d think he was at the head of a class preparing to give a report. I’m not sure where the overachiever gene was strongest, me or Yasmen, but Kassim must have gotten a double dose.

“I’m grateful for therapy,” Kassim says without hesitation. “Dr. Cabbot’s cool. I like having someone to talk to.”

It’s so simple, but so profound, this kid saying he’s in therapy and that it helps him. How many adults never admit they need help? Need someone to talk to? Never get the help I’ve begun to understand therapy can offer? A quick dart of shame pierces me. At ten years old, my son is braver with his feelings than I’ve ever been. I look up to find Yasmen’s eyes not on Kassim, but on me. Pleasure, pride—there’s some mixture of them clear in the small crook of her smile.

After dessert, some guests leave, some camp out in front of the television for football.

“This has been so great,” Vashti whispers to me. “I loved it.”

“I’m glad. You ready to head out?” She nods and I look around, but there’s no sign of my kids. “Let me tell Kassim and Deja we’re leaving.”

“Tell them goodbye for me. I’m headed to the car. I was up lateandearly cooking. I’m exhausted.”

“And I told you there was nothing to be nervous about,” I tease. “Carole doesn’t even bite.”

“She’s wonderful. I’m gonna tell her goodbye and thank her for everything.”

I head up the stairs, pretty sure I know where Deja is. Sure enough, she has her phone and tripod set up, along with an array of hair products. With promises not to spend the whole night on her phone, she kisses me and pushes me back out. Kassim is also in his room, wearing his headset and playing video games with Jamal. Otis drowses at his feet.

“Hey, Dad,” he says, eyes never leaving the action on-screen. “Can Otis stay with me tonight?”

I glance down at Otis. It’s not unusual, especially on holidays, for him to stay here instead of at my place, though sometimes he whines to come home. Dog can’t stand to sleep away from me.

“Sure, but I’m not coming back if he starts crying to come home.”

“He’ll be okay,” Kassim says, rubbing the dog’s head. “Won’t you, Otis?”

Otis drops his head to Kassim’s lap, which is sign enough for me.

“You and Deja have to walk him early in the morning,” I remind Kassim. “It’s still dark outside, so you can’t go alone.”

“I know. I already asked her. She said it’s fine.”

I reach down to scrub behind Otis’s ears, and he leans into my palm for a second before returning to Kassim.

“Okay then,” I tell him, dropping a quick kiss on Kassim’s head. “Love you, kid.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

Carole stands at the bottom of the stairs, lines of fatigue bracketing her mouth and eyes. She’s not as young as she used to be, and two days of cooking for so many may be catching up to her.

“I was hoping I hadn’t missed you,” Carole says, looping her elbow through mine. “It was good seeing you.”

I give her a side hug, and it feels like a hundred other times our family gathered and she stood with me, but everything’s different now.

“Good seeing you, too, Carole. Amazing job as usual.”

“It was great meeting Vashti. She’s very sweet.” She looks up at me, her smile in place, but eyes narrowed. “I’d hate to see that girl get hurt.”

“Why do you say that?” I ask, even though I think I know.

“Boy, you ain’t dumb, and I ain’t either.” The smile fades. “Iknowyou, Josiah, and I know my daughter.”

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