CHAPTER 1 - My Son Riley

It was hard to wake up, but eventually wake I did.

Six months ago, I had registered my son Riley for kindergarten. We had both been so excited. He was supposed to have his first day today.

Right away I had figured out the day and requested his entire first week of school off. I had hoped to get some much needed house work done, and be available in case there were any problems that first week.

At length, I could no longer stand the bed and dragged myself up. I had to pee, if nothing else.

Near the bathroom I stopped at a picture, taking a moment to trace the lines of the blond, blue eyed boy within it. Aside from his nose, he looked nothing like me, taking far more after his father.

A father who left while I was pregnant. As soon as I announced my intentions to raise him on my own, my family abandoned us too. I rarely regretted it though, Riley was worth it.

I struggled through my morning routine. However difficult and painful it was though, it was necessary that I maintain it. Riley would be sad if I didn’t.

Stopping by the table I stared at his spot, with its bright place mat and yellow cup still in place. Remorse came crashing through, why did I yell at him? He didn’t mean any harm by dropping that spoon, he was just trying to play.

Unable to move, I stood there helplessly crying. My appetite, as small as it was lately, completely vanished.

The paralysis left me as suddenly as it had arrived. I found myself wandering, with tears still in my eyes. I didn’t have a thought as to where to go, but my feet led me straight to my baby’s room.

There, sitting on his bed, were his bloodstained shoes. A testament to the greatest failure of my life.

Curling upon the bed that still smelled vaguely of him, I clutched the shoes into my arms. Arms that were still covered in scars from that fateful day. I hoped that the scars would never fade, I didn’t deserve for them to do so.

He was but two steps ahead of me, with the swings in sight. For once he wasn’t racing off ahead, he was being good and staying within arms reach.

Bouncing with excitement, he looked back over his shoulder and begged, “Mommy! Can you push me high?”

Laughing, I replied, “Don’t I always push you high?”

“But higher this time! All the way up to the sky!” Skipping, he threw his head back with a laugh as he gestured up.

We were both mid laugh when the dog struck out of nowhere, and time slowed down. But it didn’t slow down enough.

Without a thought I yanked the bag of patchy brown fur and bones off of Riley. I took no heed as it turned and tore up my arms. I simply kicked it off of myself and let a man with a stick chase it further.

I could feel people crowding in around us, and shouts ringing out. But my focus was on him.

I tried to stop the bleeding. But there was so much blood I could not tell where it was coming from. And Riley was so still, my eyes were so blurry.

The paramedics had to sedate me to get me into the ambulance.

My cellphone rang. I usually ignored it, unless it was Mary or work. This was neither of their ringtones, yet for some reason I felt compelled to answer it.

Pulling myself out of his bed, I tenderly straightened out the covers and placed his shoes just so. Then, I turned and trudged down the hall to my room, where I had left it.

The phone stopped ringing, and oddly my heart dropped. I did not know why this call was so important, but it felt like it was. I continued to move while trying to nurture a hope that they would call back.

Just as I reached the door, it started ringing again. I could not force myself to move any faster though. Finally I reached my bedside table and answered the call.

“Hello, this is Carl Jenkins from Animal Control. Do I have Jenny Aspen on the line?” drifted into my ear, and I immediately remembered the last time I’d heard that calm soothing voice.

When he walked in I was a sobbing mess. All alone in my hospital room as my baby’s cold body laid alone in the morgue. My friends could not get off work to come visit me.

He offered no words of sympathy or compassion. I would not have listened. Nor did he try to tell me it was not my fault. I would never believe him.

What he did was to sit on the edge of my bed and offer me his arms. I collapsed screaming and sobbing onto his chest, covering his crisp brown uniform in my tears and snot as he patiently patted and rubbed my back.

When I calmed down into soft hiccuping tears is when he finally spoke in that soothing newscaster voice of his, “We’ve already got a good description of the dog, so do you want me to let you know when we catch it?”

Nodding against his chest, I made a move to reach for my cellphone. I’d forgotten how thick the bandages were, I’d never be able to operate it.

Seeing my predicament, he offered, “Do you want me to call the nurse?”

I nodded once more, and he pushed the call button.

I gave her permission to share my contact details, and he wordlessly stayed with me until I fell asleep. When I woke up my best friend was curled up in bed with me, and Carl’s business card was propped up on my phone.

A note of anxiety threaded through his voice as he called through the speaker, “Miss Aspen, are you there?”

Finding myself sitting on the floor with my forehead pressed into the bed, I softly answered, “Yes, sorry.”

After an audible sigh of relief he continued, “We finally caught the dog. Do you want to come identify it?”

Lifting my head up I felt a mixture of elation and relief stirring within me. Cautiously I asked, “Are you sure it’s the right dog?”

“The other witnesses identified him as the proper dog,” he responded confidently.

“Just, kill it,” I told him dully as my forehead made its way back to the edge of the bed.

As had been explained to me, the dog was very likely rabid or an escaped fight dog. Even I could not find it in me to wholly blame the dog, so my brief spurt of interest quickly dried up.

“Alright,” he softly replied.

There was a long pause. I wanted him to keep talking, but I also didn’t have it in me to keep the conversation going.

Finally though, and hesitantly he asked, “Would you be willing to foster a kitten?”

All that popped out of my mouth was a confused, “Huh?”

Quickly, he spoke as if afraid I’d say no, “The kitten was clinging to the top of the dog’s head, and is the only reason we were able to get there in time to catch it. He kept the dog spinning in place trying to get the kitten off. But the poor little guy is too small to be placed in the shelter yet, and all of the other foster homes are overwhelmed and I thought maybe…” Seemingly running out of steam, he trailed off into silence.

I didn’t think I could go out today, and I wasn’t sure I could take care of a kitten when I couldn’t even take care of myself.

Selfishly, I wanted to meet this kitten and thank him.

I took a long time to think it over, yet he neither hung up nor called my name, just silently stayed on the line until I hesitantly asked, “Can you… bring him here?”

Carl seemed surprised when he said, “I’ll need your address."

Without any of the hesitation I would’ve had in the past I told him. After all, there was no longer anyone here worth protecting.

“We’ll be there soon,” he reassured me before hanging up with a click.

I pulled myself up once again and slipped the phone into my pocket as I wandered out to the living area to clean up.

It only took one look at the toy cars in front of the tv, and the open coloring book and scattered crayons on the coffee table for tears to well up in my eyes, and any and all will to tidy up to evaporate.

Curling up into the end of the couch, I pulled the loose throw into my lap and buried my face into it. Forgetting that I had someone coming over, I broke down all over again.

He was gone, he wasn’t coming back, and as much as all these little reminders hurt, having them gone would hurt more.

A knocking on the door interrupted me. Setting the blanket to the side I called out a watery, “Just a minute!” and wiped my eyes on my arm.

Opening the door, I stared up into a pair of warm brown eyes. Last time we’d met, I hadn’t had the strength to look up past his chin.

Digging in a pocket, he quickly produced a handkerchief and held it out with a gentle, “Here.”

With a mumbled, “Thanks,” I took the offering and stepped out of the way, silently inviting him inside. Wiping my face and blowing my nose, I curiously wondered what sort of person carries around handkerchiefs in their pockets.

Sitting uneasily back upon the couch, I stared at my feet as I mumbled, “Sorry I’m such a mess.”

“It’s understandable,” he kindly reassured me.

Before I could think of what to say, he carefully placed a tiny, fluffy, white kitten with a crooked tail and eyes the same shade of blue as Riley’s on my knee.

My heart melted as I instantly fell in love. Holding my fingers out for the kitten to sniff, I held my breath until he started nuzzling my finger tips.

The first smile in four months and five days found its wobbly way onto my face.

Scooping up the kitten, I held him to my chest. Carefully petting the soft fluffy form, I looked to where Carl was crouched watching us compassionately.

“I’d like to keep him,” I told him firmly.

Grinning at me, he explained, “I’ll put you down as fostering. That way you’ll get all of his vet bills and food paid for until his first kitten vaccines. Then you can tell them you’re keeping him.”

I nodded eagerly and soon the kitten was nosing quite firmly into my neck. With a chuckle Carl pointed out, “Looks like he’s hungry. At four weeks he still lives mostly on milk, so how about we go make a bottle up?”

I nodded again, tears stinging at my eyes as I shot up and led the way to the kitchen area. Only this time it was not just sadness that was fueling them, there was a faint hint of happiness mixed in there as well.

Expertly making the bottle, he explained to me what he was doing, and how to properly feed the kitten. Then he got me settled back onto my couch before disappearing out the door to fetch the rest of the kitten’s stuff.

When he came back, he helped me potty the kitten. Which was not something I was expecting at all. Who would think that you had to wipe a kitten’s behind to make them go?

With the white bundle of fluff curled up on my chest and purring in his sleep, Carl sat beside me with one of the bags in hand.

Reaching inside, he dug around as he explained, “There are a few different toys in here, but this one, I think, is the most necessary right now.”

Triumphantly holding out a fluffy pink monkey, he waited for me to take it before continuing, “Press the right hand to make her heart beat, and the chest to make her purr.”

“Her?” I asked curiously.

He nodded as he dug out a notebook. Leaning back, he pulled a pen out of his breast pocket and explained, “Monkey Mama will keep kittens and puppies company when needed. There’s even a place to insert a hot water bottle if it’s a really small kitten.”

Holding the monkey close, I leaned over to see what he was writing. It was instructions on how to care for the kitten and when to change it up.

I blinked, and he explained what he was writing as he did so. At first I wanted to giggle as he reminded me of a parent leaving their child with a sitter for the first time.

Soon though, I was biting my lip to fight back tears as I remembered the first time I left Riley with Mary so that I could work. I had been, if anything, even more anxious than Carl was being. Our boys got along well however, and he never suffered any harm while at my best friend’s place.

Once he finished, he flipped to the front and wrote down his name and number on the inside of the front cover saying, “Call me if you have any questions at all,” as he did so.

At my slow thoughtful nod, he turned the pen so I could see the writing on the side, “This pen is from the shelter that’s sponsoring him, call them when you’re running low on food.”

“Alright,” I softly agreed.

Flashing me a smile, he closed the notebook and clipped the pen to the spirals before digging a card out of his breast pocket and inserting it into the front of the notebook. “This is the animal hospital that the shelter is connected with, call them for anything medical related at any time.”

Feeling overwhelmed, I scrubbed the tears out of my eyes and mutely nodded once again.

Rubbing my back, Carl sat with me until I was able to look at him once again. Silently, he offered me another handkerchief. He said nothing, just gazed at me with understanding eyes.

Taking it with a grateful watery, “Thanks,” I wiped my face and blew my nose once more before baffledly asking, “Where do you get these?”

Quirking an eyebrow he tilted his head as he gave a simple answer, “Clothing store.”

I shook my head in disbelief.

Pulling himself upright he said, “I should be getting back to work, but seriously, if you have any questions at all, call me at any time.”

Fiddling with the handkerchief, I gave him a soft shy, “Alright, thanks.”

His brows furrowed as he gazed down at me. Then with a deep breath, he walked to the door and said, “Take care,” as he exited my apartment.

Anxiously, I called after him, “You too.”

“I will,” he promised as the door closed.

Carefully, I read through the instructions a few times while the kitten continued to nap. I needed to come up with a name for him, but the only one I could think of was Riley, and that name still brought a painful lump to my chest.

When the kitten woke up I went looking through the bag of toys to find one that he’d want to play with. The one that he seemed most enamored with was a little plastic ball with a bell in the middle.

Unfortunately, I kept having to stop him from chasing it under the couch. My heart would leap into my throat every time he tried to disappear.

Frantically I looked around for some sort of solution. The only one I spotted, though, was Riley’s basket, still half full of his unsorted laundry.

I couldn’t, I just couldn’t disturb it. He wasn’t here, so what was the point of continuing to fold it. But getting rid of it would be admitting he was gone. And I couldn’t do either.

Scooping up the kitten one more time, I looked down at him and he looked up at me with those big blue eyes and let out a soft little mew. My thoughts turned to how Riley would’ve reacted to this adorable kitten playing in his laundry. He would have loved it and begged me to do it.

With tears streaming down my face, and a laugh bubbling up, I deposited the little guy and his jingly ball into the no doubt dusty laundry.

It was indeed cute, watching the little guy gambol about in the basket of laundry. He seemed to entirely forget the ball multiple times as he wrestled with this lump or pounced on that one, or just ran around in circles until he stumbled over the ball.

Giggling, I wiped my face with the cleaner of the two handkerchiefs and had to admit that it was at least softer than tissue. Finally able to tear my eyes away from the kitten, I took my phone out and set a bunch of alarms with reminder notes about feeding times.

Dragging the basket over to the dividing line between the living area and kitchen, I sorted through the bags that Carl had brought up and found a place for everything.

Monkey Mama was the last thing placed. Sitting back beside the basket, I placed her squarely in the middle, and watched with a smile as the little guy climbed up her front. Knocking her onto her back, he kneaded right at the purr button, turning her on by himself as he drifted off into a kitten nap.

I ran my fingers over his delicate spine, watching over the sleepy kitten until the first of his alarms went off.

I spent my day like this, consumed with taking care of the baby. Occasionally I’d turn to call Riley’s attention to something the kitten had done, or to ask him what he thought, before remembering with a dull ache that I was sure would never fade.

Watching him voraciously eat the slurry I’d made him for supper, I realized that I was hungry. My appetite still wasn’t the greatest so I didn’t even bother choosing. I just grabbed the first frozen meal that one of my friends or coworkers had sent home with me over the past few months. Venting the lid, I popped it in the microwave and set the timer.

Just as the microwave beeped, the little kitten finished his meal. Scooping him up, I gave him a sad little smile as his food covered face and paws poignantly reminded me of when Riley first started eating solids.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” I cooed with just a little bit of false cheer. Fetching a washcloth out of a nearby drawer, I set the faucet to just the right temperature.

Before I could begin, a very specific ringtone went off. I had promised Mary after that first time that I would never ignore her call again.

Fishing the phone out with my not quite free hand, I answered it and put it on speaker all in one go before placing it on the counter.

“Hello! It’s time for my daily call to remind you to eat something!” Mary’s falsely cheerful voice rang out as I started cleaning the squirming kitten.

“It’s in the microwave,” I mumbled, not realizing before I’d begun it, how much of a herculean task sponge bathing a tiny kitten could be.

There was silence on the other end. She usually had to talk me into eating something, and she could no doubt hear the water running. Maybe she couldn’t hear me over the water?

I cleared my throat, preparing to repeat myself louder when she spoke again.

“Awesome!” Marry’s voice rose in excitement before lowering as she curiously asked, “Are you doing dishes?”

“No, I’m bathing a kitten,” I replied absently as I chased that little face around.

She started to say something, I’m not sure what, as I cut her off with my loud yell of, “Oh what the!” As with a twist and a kick the kitten managed to somehow jump onto my head. With his still very goopy paws, I was going to need a shower. Well, I needed one anyways, it’d been at least a few days.

Sighing, I reached up and dragged him down, grumbling as I did so, “I’ve got opposable thumbs and ball-and-socket jointed shoulders you know.”

I found flipping him onto his back and holding him close to my body made him somewhat more manageable. Somewhat.

Snorting her ‘I’m trying not to laugh’ snort, Mary cleared her throat and asked, “Where’d you get the kitten?”

“They caught the dog,” I replied grimly.

“Oh yeah?” she asked hopefully.

“And then the animal guy brought me a kitten.” I said as I caught those goopy little paws.

I would’ve said more, but the microwave gave a reminder beep and Mary quickly said, “You should go eat, I can call you earlier tomorrow. Can you send me a picture of your new kitten in the meantime?”

“Yeah sure,” I responded easily. After exchanging brief farewells, I finished cleaning up and pottying the kitten.

Drying him off with one hand towel, I wrapped him in another and fetched my meal. I hadn’t eaten all day, so it didn’t take me long to wolf down what I was able. The rest got shoved into the fridge to maybe eat for breakfast. There were several maybe breakfasts there that should probably go in the trash.

Then I curled up on the couch to play with the kitten until I was sure he was fully dry. It had been a long day though, and I was soon fighting off sleep.

Plopping him into the basket, I pressed the monkey’s paw to start up her heart sounds, and then carried the basket into the bedroom with me.

I curled up in bed, watching the little white kitten curled up on top of the bright pink monkey, and we both drifted off to the steady, soothing sound of a mechanical heart.

~~~~~

I was awoken by a small set of hands tugging on my arm, and a very familiar little voice cheerfully urging, “Wake up!”

My eyes snapped open and I stared into Riley’s face, drinking in that cheerful smile before noticing how much paler his hair had gotten, and the pair of twitching cat ears sticking up out of it.

Without giving me time to react, he threw himself into my arms and declared with a giggle, “Found you mommy!”

I hugged him close, taking in great big gulps of air as I tried my hardest not to start bawling.

Sitting up, I ignored the dusty smell of his clothes and the fluffy, crooked tail swaying behind him.

Holding him away from me, I traced over the lines of his face with one hand as tears streamed silently down my face. I was afraid that it was all an illusion, and that if I but blinked, he’d vanish.

Frowning, he put his hands on my face and worriedly asked, “Mommy? Why’re you crying? Didn’t you want me to find you?”

“No no baby, I’ll always want you to find me,” I reassured him in a wavering voice, “I just had a terrible dream where I’d lost you forever is all.”

“That wasn’t a dream,” he told me solemnly with a spark of wisdom in his eyes that he’d never displayed before he continued, “But I missed you soo much that I went looking for you.”

Unable to hold it back anymore, I held him close and rocked back and forth as I cried my eyes out. I didn’t know why he was here, if it was a final good bye, or if I’d somehow gotten my baby back. But it felt like it might be somewhere in between.

He patiently snuggled into my arms, I would’ve expected him to be more emotional, but he wasn’t. And eventually I calmed down too.

I pulled over the tissue box and used quite a large handful to wipe my face and blow my nose. At the rough texture I spared a brief thought to wonder how expensive handkerchiefs might be.

Once I was able to look at him again, he smiled and said, “I want a grilled cheese sandwich, can we?”

“Of course baby,” I told him in a trembling voice.

Squeaking gleefully, he dragged me out of bed by the hand. As we passed by the basket, I glanced at it to find the pink monkey sitting beside it, with the little bell ball in her lap.

In the kitchen I quickly set to grating cheese when Riley pulled out some lunch meat and put it beside me. I smiled, he always did like ham in his grilled cheese, and it would be no trouble to dice some up.

I soon realized that I had enough there for two sandwiches, and I was starting to feel rather hungry myself. Buttering four slices of bread would not be much more trouble than two.

Buttered bread went into the pan, with cheese sprinkled onto those. The next was always Riley’s job, and he did it as unevenly as always, sprinkling more ham onto one than on the other. A warmth spread through me as I finished sprinkling the cheese. Placing the other slices of bread, I then added the finishing touches and sprinkled onion powder and parm on top.

Bouncing slightly on his chair, Riley cheerfully demanded, “Do paprika this time!”

I hesitated. Smoked paprika would add a nice hint of smokiness to it, and it was a step that we liked to do on special occasions. But it was too red, and reminded me of blood.

Still, all of my resistance to that pleading face had turned into nothing within that last four months. I dug all the way into the back of the cupboard where I had hidden it from myself, and handed it to Riley without looking.

“Mommy, are you sure?” He asked uncertainty while looking up at me with a worried confused furrow to his brow.

“You’re such a big boy now! I’m sure you can do it,” I pointed out while ruffling his kitten soft hair.

Giggling, he popped the cap open and sprinkled it liberally. “Silly Mommy, I’m no bigger than I was.”

Silently and sadly I had to agree, he was the exact same height. He should have gained several inches by now.

Once the powder was scattered in the pan, it wasn’t such a big deal. It was more obviously a powder that way than it had been in the jar. Still, I didn’t look very closely as I shoved the jar to the back of the cupboard once more.

Cooking had been a cheerful event, something that it had not been in a while. Riley oddly insisted that I get the one with the most meat. As I was blinking in surprise, he hopped down from his chair and raced to the fridge to dig around for a bit.

“Mommy, where’s the ketchup?” he eventually called out in confusion.

Wincing, I recalled my freak-out my first night back, and Mary throwing it out for me. Riley was right here though, so I didn’t allow myself to dwell upon it.

Instead, I said slowly as I thought it out, “I had it thrown out. How about, if I get some yellow tomatoes from the farmers market and learn how to make my own ketchup?”

Gasping gleefully, he closed the fridge and excitedly asked, “We can have yellow ketchup? What about tomato soup, can that be yellow too?”

Cutting the sandwiches into four triangles each, I thoughtfully replied, “If the tomatoes are yellow, then yes the soup or sauce should be yellow.”

With a happy whoop, he raced off to his spot to wait.

Setting the plates down, I put his cup, dusty from disuse, in the sink and got us a pair from the cupboard to have our juice in.

Then I fetched my sketchpad to draw in between bites. I wanted to capture this moment as if it were our last, because I’d had the very painful lesson that any moment might be.

As he hummed and danced in his chair, I did my best to capture every line of motion. I paid careful attention to that little wrinkle on his nose that formed when he was chewing while in a good mood. Carefully, I shaded in that adorable dimple on his chin, that deepened with his smile.

Later, if this sketch existed, I would come back and add the color. The slight pink inside his ears, the cornflower blue of his eyes, and the vivid yellow of his shirt. If it did not exist, I would do my best to recreate it in the waking world.

As soon as I’d taken my last bite, Riley was at my side once again. Wiggling in excitement, he grabbed my arm and begged, “Can I have a bubble bath? And my monkey jammies!”

Laughing, I nodded and left the dishes on the table as I led the way to the bathroom.

I was happy, all warm and fuzzy happy, but there was also a strong undercurrent of uneasiness. Like this wasn’t real, or something was going to take it away.

I tried to ignore it. While drawing his bath and fetching his jammies, I almost succeeded.

But then I was back in the hall, with the door cracked open listening to him make up songs. And the fear that he was already disappearing, that if I turned and looked he would be nothing but a remembered voice once more crashed into me.

Finding it hard to breathe I tried to keep myself busy, I tidied up the living and kitchen areas. I put his dusty laundry into his dirty laundry hamper. I did our small handful of dishes. I dusted, and dusted, and dusted some more.

Very likely I was not taking as much care with anything as it truly needed until Riley called out, “Mommy! I’m ready for the hair dryer!”

“Coming!” I called out as I dropped the cloth and hurried to his side.

Seeing his bright and shiny face, surrounded by his damp white hair, I breathed out a sigh of relief.

Clapping his hands over his mouth Riley let out a loud giggle. 

Quirking an eyebrow, I got the hairdryer and brush ready before asking, “What’s so funny mister?”

Still giggling he mumbled through his fingers, “While I was getting all clean, you were getting all dirty.”

I took a closer look at my arms. They were rather streaked with dust. Snorting out a laugh of my own, I decided to wash up to my elbows before helping him with his hair.

Oddly, watching the dirt go down the drain settled my mind quite a bit. It was a much more relaxed me that took up the task of drying Riley’s hair, and eventually his tail.

Seeing how his pants were riding I curiously asked, “Is that comfortable?”

“It’s okay,” he responded with a shrug. Which was the same exact reaction I would get every time he started outgrowing his shoes and didn’t want to admit it yet.

Frowning, I decided to alter his favorite bottoms the next day to allow for his tail to come out under the band.

But, while he was spick and span and dry, I hadn’t bathed in days. I was covered in dust, and I still had kitten food in my hair. I couldn’t cuddle with him like this.

Instead, I offered him a treat, “Do you want to watch the next episode of The Pajama Patrol while I shower?”

Cheering, he raced off ahead of me to the living room and bounced into his favorite spot on the couch.

Hiding my disquiet behind a mostly genuine smile, I followed after him and lined up the next episode to play before heading back to the bathroom.

While scrubbing, I tried not to think of the last time that he’d sat on that couch, and watched his favorite show about crimefighting children. I most especially tried not to think of coming home alone to an empty apartment for the first time.

Try as I might, I could not keep the thoughts at bay, and like always I wound up crying in the shower. Even though he was right out there, and with the door cracked open I could even hear his silly little show playing.

I dried my hair quickly, and wrapped a towel about myself to peek into the living area and make sure he was still there. Seeing him safely engrossed in his show, I sighed in relief and raced back to my room. Throwing on a pair of my own jammies, I hurried back to join him.

I got there in time for the last ten minutes of the half hour long show. I scooped my little boy into my lap and buried my nose into his downy head.

While his soft warm weight was everything I remembered, he did not quite smell the same and his hair was so impossibly soft. Add in those twitchy kitty ears and flicking crooked tail and I supposed I should start thinking of him as my little kitten.

The end credit music came on and I lifted my head to ask, “What should I call the kitten?”

Turning in my lap, he looked at me like I was crazy and gave me a very simple answer. “Riley.”

Chuckling, I kissed his forehead and pointed out, “Your aunty Mary would drag me back to therapy if I did that. How about Lee instead?”

His brows furrowed in confusion and he let out a plaintive, “But I’m Riley.”

My heart just about broke into even more pieces, and I hugged him tighter as I hurried to reassure him, “Yes, you’re my little Riley kitten, but I don’t think anyone will believe that. And Lee is still part of Riley.”

He still seemed dubious as he mumbled out, “I guess.”

Throwing some extra cheer into my voice, I tried to coax him with, “Tomorrow we’ll watch a Jack Li movie, and you can see how awesome being a Lee part time is!”

Perking up, he more readily agreed this time. “Well okay. Can we color now?”

I gave him a quick nod and he hopped out of my lap to pull out the crayons and our shared coloring book out of the coffee table’s cubby hole. As he settled on a picture, I sat on the floor beside him to watch him color.

Usually, he happily humed to himself while doing artwork, but tonight he surprised me by speaking, “Is the hanky man going to come by with his kitties?”

It took a moment to figure out that he was probably talking about Carl.

Shrugging, I decided to answer his question with another, “Are his kitties nice?”

With an eager nod he replied, “He has three, a big brown one that’s good at snuggles, and two smaller gray ones that’re constantly chasing and playing with each other.”

Leaning against the coffee table, I happily listened to him ramble about the past two days without even a pause to allow me to ask more questions.

He quite gleefully told me about the man feeding him over the back of the brown cat, and the gray kitties playing with him under her watchful eye. And then how excited he was when he realized where the man with the hankies was taking him.

I laughed where appropriate, and made encouraging noises at all the right moments. However, while I was happy that someone had taken care of him in my absence, I was plagued by that old feeling of melancholy that I could not do it all.

Somehow, I wanted to hold onto that feeling. It was a sad feeling, but it was a much softer feeling than I’ve been living under lately.

Riley looked up at me, with a particular twinkle in his eye. I started chuckling even before he grabbed a blue crayon and drew crazy swirls over the flowers in the picture.

“Mommy’s turn!” he proudly declared while passing over the coloring book.

Turning to more fully face the coffee table, I took the coloring book as my little kitten leaned against my side. Smiling slightly, I added shading and highlights while explaining how to do that with crayons for perhaps the millionth time. Occasionally he’d giggle and speak along with me. In between, I asked for his opinions on color as I added a touch of detail here or there.

Then, I picked three different blues and a yellow to work within the color palette he’d given me. Feeling him getting heavier against my side, I stopped speaking at this point and colored the flowers.

Putting away the crayons and coloring book, I frowned. I didn’t want to tuck him into his bed, and then go to mine. I’m not sure I’d be able to survive it honestly.

Brushing the hair off his forehead, I fought back the urge to cry. I didn’t want this dream to end, but I could feel the end drawing near, in the form of an ephemeral sleepiness.

At the very least, I could delay our separation by just a few minutes more.

Carefully scooping him into my arms, I leaned back against the couch, and got my feet under myself so I could labor my way upright.

It was harder than I remembered it being, either he had somehow put on weight, or I’d lost strength. It didn’t bear thinking about too hard though.

Curled up in bed, securely around my little one, with the blankets keeping us cozy and warm, I experienced the weirdest form of contented longing. As I drifted off I prayed with all my might, that I’d have this dream every night.