Page 41 of Buttons

I step inside. The apartment is small. The living room flows directly into the kitchen. To the left is a very short hallway, which presumably leads to bedrooms, though I can’t imagine they’re much larger than closets. I mean, sure, to Seattle’s standards, the place is huge. However, to mine, it’s laughable. It’s not just the size that shocks me; it’s everything else. The coffee table looks like something rescued from the side of the road. Did she get this from—gulp—Pottery Barn? And the walls…dear God, the walls. Every vertical surface is covered with the children’s artwork. Dinosaurs march across one section in Leo’s style while Meredith’s enthusiastic paint splatters occupy another. Nothing is framed. It’s just there, taped up with colorful washi that makes my eye twitch.

“DADDY!”

The voice breaks through my assessment as Meredith barrels into the room, launching herself at me with her characteristic disregard for self-preservation. I’m used to Meredith’s excitement, but not managing it. I catch her automatically, lifting her into the air as she throws her arms around my neck. It feels foreign, but oh so right.

“You came! You came! Mommy said you would, but I didn’t know when, and I’ve been waiting FOREVER and EVER!”

Her enthusiasm punches through my chest.

Leo appears more cautiously from what I presume is his bedroom, watching me. When he decides it’s safe, he approaches with silent steps and wraps his arms around my middle. I shift Meredith to one arm and place my free hand on his head.

“Hi, Dad,” he says quietly, and my chest tightens again. I’ve never been an affectionate parent, and now I’m feeling the effects of it.

“I missed you,” I tell them both, and I mean it more than I’ve meant anything in my entire life. “I missed you so much.”

Elowen stands apart from this reunion, arms crossed over her chest like she’s holding something in…or keeping something out.

“Look at my room, Daddy!” Meredith wriggles from my grasp and tugs at my hand. “I have stars on my ceiling that glow ALL NIGHT LONG! And Leo has a dinosaur night-light in his!”

Leo nods solemnly.

“That sounds fascinating,” I say, letting Meredith pull me toward the hallway while looking back at Elowen for permission.

She nods once, her expression still carefully neutral.

The children are showing me their new home with genuine excitement. Leo’s voice has grown more animated than I’ve heard in months. Meredith is bouncing on her toes, eager to show me every corner of their downsized life. They seem happy despite their father’s absence.

“And this,” Meredith says with theatrical importance, “is Mommy’s special project wall.”

She points proudly to a large corkboard covered with papers. Looking closer, I realize they’re shelter adoption forms and grant applications.

“Mom volunteers at a place that takes in animals,” Leo explains. “Even the mean ones.”

I turn to find Elowen in the doorway, watching us. Pride flickers across her face. I’d never challenge her on it.

“You volunteer at an animal shelter?” I already know the answer, but I’m desperate to create conversation.

“Yes.” She doesn’t elaborate. It’s another change. The old Elowen would have explained herself to seek my approval.

“King Seattle Shelter for Animals,” Meredith asks, though one eye closes as if she’s not entirely sure she got the name right.

“Seattle King County Animal Shelter,” Leo corrects helpfully.

“Some animals are scared, so they act mean, but they’re not really,” Meredith explains.

The insight in my young daughter’s words catches me off guard.

“I help with the kittens,” Leo continues, his words tumbling out faster now. “I read to them so they get used to human voices. Ms. Beatrix says I have a ‘calming presence’ that helps the shy ones.” He says this with the same kind of pride I noticed from Elowen a few minutes ago.

“You read to cats?” I can’t quite keep the incredulity from my voice.

Elowen explains, “Leo is gifted with the more traumatized animals.”

Leo nods earnestly. “Like Buttons. He was super scared when he first came. He hissed all the time. But I just sat quietly and read books from the library, and after three days, he let me touch his ear.” He demonstrates with a gentle finger-touch to his own ear. “Ms. Beatrix said that was huge progress.”

“The shelter sounds interesting,” I manage, which is not a lie. It is interesting, if not what I would have chosen as an appropriate activity for my children. Animals carry diseases; shelter dogs can be unpredictable. The facilities are likely understaffed and chaotic at times. Yet my children speak of this place like it’s Disney World.

The thought of them having an entire life without me is excruciating. It lodges in my throat as Meredith drags me backto the living room to show me their collection of library books “that we can keep for a few weeks, Daddy, not forever, but that’s okay because then other kids get a turn next.”