I took clothes, his toothbrush, a few things he would expect to have with him, and Captain, because there was no version of that morning in which Captain was getting left behind.
I packed quietly enough that the people in the guest room never stirred.
That detail stayed with me.
Marcus and Diane had been careless enough to sleep while I came home, found my son, discovered them together, called an attorney, took photographs, packed a bag, and prepared to leave.
Noah didn’t understand any of it.
That was both a relief and a heartbreak.
I carried him to the car while he was still half asleep.
He rested against me without asking why we were leaving the house so early.
I buckled him into his seat and tucked Captain beneath his arm.
Then I drove away.
The porch light was still off when I backed out of the driveway.
I drove to the Marriott on Clement Avenue, the hotel Patricia and I had previously discussed.
Noah slept against the window for most of the ride, Captain tucked beneath his chin.
I kept checking him in the rearview mirror.
Not because he was in danger.
Because I needed to see him there.
Safe.
Warm now.
With me.
When we reached the hotel, I used my business card as Patricia had instructed.
I took Noah upstairs and tried to make the room feel ordinary.
That was harder than I expected.
