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Her eyes opened wide at the thought. She picked up the basket and started to walk out the room when her eyes fell across the computer screen again. She stood staring at it like it was a riddle she needed to figure out before she could proceed with her life. She cocked her head to the side. She pursed her lips. She breathed slow, deep breaths through her nose. She put the laundry basket down in slow motion. She straightened up the same way. Then she walked over to the computer and sat in Dominic's chair. She looked behind her at the open door to his room. The house was completely quiet. Outside, she could hear only the sound of sprinklers in her neighbor's backyard. She stared at the empty doorway for a long time. Then slowly her head turned back and she stared at her own reflection in the black computer screen. Without input from her brain her hand rose, covered the computer mouse and clicked a button a couple of times. The fans on the computer came on, lights lit up, hard drive made. I’ve seen the glint of tears more than once. And all I want to do is hold him, cradle him against me and draw his pain into myself, and infuse my strength and hope into him. But I can’t. He says that no one was there to catch him when he fell. He’s right. Yet my being there to help him back up means nothing. It’s too late, or so he says. I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it, or I might as well start digging his grave. I sit on the edge of his bed, and he comes to me, wrapping his arms around my legs, resting his head in my lap, and I stroke his hair. One of his hands will reach out, and I’ll take it in my own, our fingers intertwine. His thumb brushes back and forth over my palm, and my fingers stroke across his neck. He’ll sit up and go back to his desk, only to return minutes later. I lay on my side, my head propped on my hand, and I look down at him. He comes closer, and I stretch my arm out towards him, welcoming him. He pushes his hand between my legs, and I grasp onto it..
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