Page 43 of Love Always

She obliges and hands me the tumbler.

“Now I feel bad for not asking you about your day every single day. Did anything happen today that was bad?”

She smiles. “I didn’t tell you all that to make you feel guilty.” She shakes her head, and that straight hair, the hair I was always so jealous of, ripples like a sheet of liquid obsidian. “No, we just did a barn razing for a training out near Friendship. We’re good,” she says and smiles again. “I do not,” and she stresses this by repeating those three words, “I do not want you worrying about me.”

The click of a bedroom door signals the arrival of Cory. He’s a little disoriented and rubbing his eyes with balled fists like a baby. “I’m thirsty.”

“Would you like some water?” Working with him is a 24/7 job.

“I’m thirsty please. Momma, I love you.” He says this when he struggles for the right manners or can’t remember what to say. It’s a get-out-of-jail card and though I’m pleased he’s learned it, it also breaks my heart for so many other reasons.

Devon unfurls herself from the floor, grabs the glass I used earlier and fills it with a little water. “Here, buddy.”

He takes it and drinks it all in one long draught.

“You are thirsty.”

He nods.

“Let’s go potty before you go back to bed,” I say rising to help him get into the bathroom. I also want to make sure I didn’t accidentally leave the condom somewhere.

“Momma, what’s that?” he says and points right at Mateus's pile of personal items.

Devon, who at this point has been only focused on me, stares at the prosthetic leg.

“Is that Mateus’s?”

“Yes,” I say.

Cory climbs into bed. I want so desperately to hold him and feel his little body against mine like I did when he was small, but he doesn’t respond well now, unless it’s a full body clutch. At least that’s what I call it. A full body clutch means arms and legs around him, holding him tight, and I reserve that for when he’s really upset. Now, I have to be content to run a hand through his hair—something he’s just recently allowed.

“Can I give you a kiss goodnight?”

Consent in our little unit-of-two family is necessary but not for the regular reasons.

“Yes,” he says a little too loudly.

I lean over and give him a little kiss on each soft cheek, turn out the light and close the door.

As I turn to go, I hear Mateus call from the bedroom.

I duck in, quickly, and he shifts under the blankets. Just the sound of the sheets and his smell leaves me suddenly warm again in all the places he touched me: lips, chest, buttocks, crotch. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his silky jockeys on and I glance over his body taking in the muscle and sinew, and how, when he grips the edge of the mattress, his forearms bunch.

He smiles. “Can you get me my uh, bag and … you know?”

“Oh, yes. Just a second.” I pause. “Do I need to carry it a certain way?”

He laughs, “No. It’s pretty sturdy.”

I return, the bag in one hand the prosthetic in the other.

When I come back to the living area, Devon is pouring us another glass of wine. The first has already gone to my head and I’m feeling incredibly relaxed.

“He’s an amputee?” she keeps whispering.

I make a face and glance at the hallway. “Shhh,” I say, nodding at the same time.

“That’s amazing. You’d never know. Both legs?”