Page 11 of Buttons

I move past him with my suitcase. The hallway stretches before me, family photos lining the walls: our wedding day, Leo’s birth, Meredith’s first steps. A history of moments I thought were precious to both of us.

I open Leo’s door first. The dinosaur nightlight casts prehistoric shadows across his sleeping face. At nine years old, he’s so thoughtful and sensitive.

I sit gently on the edge of his bed, stroking his hair. “Leo,” I whisper. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

He stirs, eyes blinking open in confusion. “Mom?” His voice is raspy with sleep. He spots Julian hovering in the doorway and sits up straighter. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I assure him, even though everything is. “We’re going on a trip.”

“Now?” He rubs his eyes anxiously, looking between Julian and me. He’s always been sensitive to tension, our Leo. Always trying to smooth things over, just like his mother.

“Yes, now,” I say, pulling his backpack from the hook by his desk. “Let’s pack some clothes and your favorite things. I need you to be my big helper tonight. Can you pick two favorite books and Bronty?” Bronty is his plush brontosaurus, threadbare from years of love.

Leo nods, uncertainty giving way to the simple task I’ve assigned him. He slides out of bed and retrieves his dinosaur, clutching it to his chest.

“This isn’t happening,” Julian says while I finish packing essentials.

A few moments later, Leo hands me his backpack, stuffed full of things he doesn’t want to forget. “Perfect,” I tell him. “Now let’s get your sister.”

Meredith’s room is across the hall, all pink and purple, despite my attempts at a more gender-neutral palette. “Girls like pink,” Julian had insisted when we decorated. Not “Meredith likes pink.”

Unlike her brother, Meredith is sitting up in bed when I open the door, as if she’s been expecting us. At seven, she has an uncanny awareness of household currents.

“Are we going somewhere?” she demands without preamble. There’s nothing but bold curiosity in her voice. My fearless girl.

“Yes, Mi-Mi,” I tell her, using her nickname. “A special trip.”

“With Daddy?” Her eyes find Julian in the doorway.

“Not this time,” I say, my voice steady though my heart pounds.

“Why not?” Direct as always, my daughter.

Julian steps forward. “Mommy needs a break, and Daddy is very busy.”

A half-truth, I’ll give him that.

Meredith looks between us, her little brow furrowed. She may be only seven, but she knows something significant is happening.

“I want my bunny,” she announces, climbing out of bed and retrieving her stuffed rabbit from the toy chest. Decision made. Crisis navigated. If only adult problems could be solved with such clarity.

I help her pick clothes while Julian watches from the doorway. His commanding presence has diminished with each passing minute. I feel his eyes on me as I zip Meredith’s small backpack.

“Ellie,” he says, and now there’s real fear in his voice. “Please. Don’t do this.”

For a moment, I almost falter. Eight years of being accommodating nearly overwhelms me. “Come on, kids,” I say. “Let’s go to the car.”

We move down the stairs as a unit. I am carrying both my suitcase and Meredith’s backpack while Leo trails behind with his own bag, Meredith chattering about which snacks we should bring. Julian follows, his perfect posture crumbling with each step.

“Where will you go?” he asks as we reach the front door. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“This is ridiculous,” he says again, but the words have lost their commanding edge. “But you promise you’ll be safe?”

I turn to face him. In the dim light of our front hallway, he looks smaller somehow. Less certain. The master of the universe is reduced to a man in a rumpled suit watching his life collapse.

“I’m not leaving,” I say. “I’m finding out who I would have been if you’d sent that text to the right person.”