Little Button
“It’s good to see you, Button.”
“Good to see you too, Daddy.”
She still had the doll. He bought it nearly a year ago. He thought she would have outgrown it by now. But there it was, tucked under her arm. That made him happy.
“How do you like living with your aunt and uncle?” he asked.
“I like them. I love Devin a whole lot. Mark is nice sometimes.”
“What’s he like when he’s not nice?”
“He takes my LEGO friends away. Yells.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“You don’t have to.”
“He shouldn’t be yelling at you.”
She was quiet a moment. Then, suddenly:
“Why don’t I just come live with you, Daddy?” Her voice was small, but there was sadness in it she couldn’t hide. That sadness, sincere and unmistakable, was the only parental luxury he allowed himself. The only part of being a father he let himself keep. He shifted nervously. His sleeves rolled up, revealing things he hid as if they were old maps of a lost country. He rolled them down and crossed his arms.
“Because, my little Button, it’s too hard for Daddy to take care of you right now.”
“Tell me why. Does it have something to do with mom?”
He exhaled. “Of course not. Do you still think about her?”
“Yes, but days go by now when I don’t think about her. And then the next day I get sad. And if I forget to get sad for forgetting to think about her, I get really really sad.”
“That’s okay. Days go by so fast. Just try to remember the best you can.”
“Why is it such a big deal to you?”
“Because she loved you; loves you more than anything.”
They sat there. The starry night pressed down on them. A silent night, save for crickets. The moonlight caught a ladybug trapped in the split grain of the wooden table, flipped onto its back, helpless. She reached out and set it right. A soft, half-smile appeared on her face.
“As much as you?”
“Even more.”
“How come everyone who loves me goes away?”
“It’s because we love you so much.”
“I don’t understand.”
“In time you will, my little Button.”
To be away from her was the furthest thing from abandonment. It was clear to him. It was the best gift he could give. She didn’t respond. She just held her doll a little tighter.
