“Sophie still sleeps holding your sweater.”
“Then give her another blanket.”
She wasn’t simply ending our marriage. She was walking away from all seven children.
Sophie sobbed through that first night, finally quieting near dawn.
“Daddy, where’s Mommy?”
“She’s not coming home tonight, sweetheart.”
“Tomorrow?”
I had no answer.
Rachel, our eldest, was sixteen. She discovered me sitting on the kitchen floor.
“Dad, are we going to be okay?”
“Absolutely.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“Then I’ll keep saying it until I do.”
I began repairing furniture each morning, stocking supermarket shelves at night, and delivering orders on weekends.
Rachel prepared breakfasts, Nathan assisted with schoolwork, and the other children helped care for Sophie.
One evening, Sophie asked, “Did Mommy leave because I cried too much?”
“Nothing you did made her leave, sweetheart.”
“Even when I was naughty?”
“Especially then.”
“Did Mom ask about us?” Rachel asked.
