“I’m serious. Teacher said start with parents, then grandparents. I was like, how much time you got?” Amara said, “Just draw Dad in the middle and make arrows everywhere.”
Both children laughed. Andre did too, cautiously. Then Amara looked at him. “Do you still have the airport sign?”
The question surprised him. “What sign?” “The one I made. Mom kept it for a while.
I thought maybe you had it.” Andre shook his head. “No.” Owen said, “Mom threw my flowers away.”
“She had to,” Amara said. “Flowers die.” “Yeah, but the sign didn’t.” Andre looked between them.
“Do you remember that day a lot?” The children considered it. Amara shrugged. “Not a lot.
I remember everybody yelling.” Owen said, “I remember thinking Amara stole my dad.” She punched his arm lightly. “You thought I stole him?”
“You were there first.” “You were the secret one.” The table went quiet for half a beat. Andre braced himself.
Then Owen said, “Yeah, but I’m better at soccer.” Amara rolled her eyes. “That has nothing to do with anything.” The moment passed.
Andre sat back and realized something important. The airport would always be a defining event in the adults’ lives, but for the children it had become one chapter among many. They had not forgotten. They had integrated it.
That was the best outcome he had any right to hope for. After dinner, all three walked to the parking lot. Nia and Caroline had returned within minutes of each other. For a strange second, the arrangement echoed the airport: two women approaching from different directions, one child eventually moving toward each.