Chapter 64
Ella
Friday
We took Miles’s car. It’s a very quiet ride. I glance at him many times. He’s in the driver’s seat, staring at the road, focused and unfocused at the same time.
I had thought about flying in. But the train was simpler, easier, faster. So I bought a last-minute ticket and arrived at the Grand Central Terminal a few hours ago.
After nearly an hour of silence, he rests his hand briefly on my left knee. Maybe to assure me he is still here. Or maybe to make sure, for himself, that I am.
When we reach our destination, I guide him with hand signals to where he should park his car.
I lead him into the Elmwood Center.
We walk slowly through the corridors.
When I stop at a door, he stops too, and he understands it.
I watch his breath quicken, his jaw tighten, his eyes fix on the slightly open door.
My hand reaches for his. “I’m right here,” I tell him, offering a soft smile. He nods once and lets go of my hand as I open the door, leaving him waiting for a few seconds more.
“Hi,” I peek my head into the room. “I have someone here I’d like you to meet,” I say, pushing the door open a little more.
“Ella? I wasn’t expecting you to visit today. Please, come in.”
I take a step inside, an emotional smile on my face, my hand still on the door. “I found something that couldn’t wait for my visit next week.”
Miles walks through the door as I say it. His body moves slowly, his face serious. I feel the urge to step closer to him, to hold his hand, to ease the turmoil inside him. But I also know I should give him space. He needs it. He can handle this in his own way. So I let him. I give them space.
It took me a few years to understand what Miss Amara had tried to teach me when we let Miles follow his own path and leave us all behind.
Now I understand that we have to accept that the people we love need to struggle sometimes in order to grow — that me always stepping in to fix things robs them of their own strengths. I understand it now.
The moment Mr. Marlin realizes what’s happening is the most expressive reaction I’ve ever seen on anyone before. His eyes widen, his entire face fills with emotion.
Miles lifts his t-shirt slightly and turns just enough for Mr. Marlin to see. Letting him experience the exact moment I had when Mr. Marlin had bent forward in his wheelchair, his sweater shifting just enough to reveal a familiar pyramid-shaped birthmark on his lower back. We all knew that mark.
“Son?” Mr. Marlin lets the tears fall.