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Chapter fifteen
Adam
Despite the risk of losing Wolfie, my steps were lighter for the rest of the day. We had a plan in place, and I still had the taste of Reagan on my lips, so I was flying high by the time I picked Wolfie up from school.
But the high would come crashing down when I noticed a change in his attitude. Usually, he bounded out of school, excited to tell me about everything that happened. But at the end of the day, he was quiet, withdrawn. I wondered if the nightmares were getting to him during the day now.
After Reagan had left my office, I had managed to track down a sought-after child therapist who'd made space for Wolfie as a professional courtesy to me. He now had an appointment the following week, and I was hoping that this therapist could help settle some of his anxieties.
As he drove home, I explained to him that I would be taking him to a friend the following week to talk about things—how he was feeling, if he was liking New York.
"But how come I can't just talk to you about those things?" he asked.
"You can always talk to me about things, Wolfie—don't ever think you can't. But this is a special kind of friend. You know how I went to school to be a doctor to help people with their boo-boos and things that make them sick?"
"Yeah," he responded.
"Well, this friend of mine went to school to help people out with things that are bothering them, like things that make them sad or confused or scared. A lot of times, people will talk to my friend about dreams they have or nightmares."
I glanced over at Wolfie. He looked at me with big eyes. "Am I in trouble?"
"What? No, no, Wolfie, it's nothing like that. You're not in trouble, and you haven't done anything wrong. I just really care about you, and I want to make sure that you feel good about things going on right now. And sometimes, it's nice to talk to somebody who's not your family, even though you can always talk to me about whatever. You know that, right?"
He nodded. There was a long silence as we made our way home, and Wolfie was still quiet as we headed up the stairs to the apartment. But in the middle of dinner, he swallowed hard and asked me, "Do people ever come back after they die?"
I stopped for a moment, trying to think of what the right thing would be to say, but ultimately, all I could do was tell him the truth, "No, I'm sorry, they don't."
I saw his eyes welling up with tears, but he just nodded and said quietly, "That's what I was afraid of."
I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say, and I was terrified that I was royally fucking this up, but then, he looked at me again and asked with bright eyes, "Uncle Adam? You're not gonna leave me, are you?"
I shook my head. "No, I'm not leaving you," I reassured him before leaning over and squeezing his shoulder, "You're stuck with me, kid."
A quick laugh escaped him, but then, his expression sobered, and he said quietly, "I miss my parents."
"I know you do, buddy, and it's okay to miss them. I miss them, too."
"Is it bad when I'm happy, even if they're not here?" he asked solemnly.
"No. In fact, they want you to be happy. You know they'd be here if they could, but since they can't, they want you to be happy, buddy. I want you to be happy. It's okay to be sad, it's okay to feel a lot of things, but you don't need to feel guilty about that."
He nodded, and after a beat, said, "I'm glad I'm stuck with you, Uncle Adam."
I fought back tears, but one slipped free. "I'm glad you're stuck with me, too."
***
We spent the rest of the night flipping between games, but it made my heart swell when he expressed interest in the hockey game. I gave him the ins and outs of how the game worked, and he asked when I would teach him. "Soon. In fact, if you want to go to one of the rinks Friday night after school, we can do that—maybe go grab some pizza before. Just don't tell Aunt Reagan." I teased him.
"Can she come with us?" he asked hopefully.
"Yeah." I smiled at the thought of it. "That would be fun. How about I ask her? I don't know what her schedule is like, but maybe she'll come," I told him, not wanting to get his hopes up.
I thought he was going to let the subject drop, but it became evident that he expected me to call Reagan right at that moment, so I dialed her up and put her on the spot. "Hey, Reagan, just to let you know you're on speakerphone."
"Hi, Aunt Rea," Wolfie chimed in.
"Hey, Wolfie, how's my favorite guy?".
