Chapter 85 - Where Milo Slept
On Sunday morning, Isabel packed Milo’s belongings into a bag.
She included the yellow duck, his brush, a blanket we had bought for him, and a drawing of our house.
Nico added a small wooden stand he had made for the food bowls Peter planned to use.
Daniel had helped him check the size.
Noah put nothing in the bag.
He sat beside Milo until the doorbell rang.
Peter arrived with Tessa.
He looked different.
Still tired.
But he had shaved, and this time he carried a set of keys without turning them anxiously in his hand.
“The flat’s small,” he told us.
“Milo won’t measure it,” Lena said.
Peter smiled.
At the car, Milo jumped into the space behind his seat and settled as though a problem that had occupied everyone else for weeks had finally been explained.
The children said goodbye.
Isabel kissed the top of his head.
Nico reminded Peter about the bowl stand.
Noah stood back until the others had finished.
Then he leaned into the car.
“Be good.”
Milo licked his chin.
Noah laughed and cried at the same time.
After they left, the house seemed unusually large around the kitchen blanket’s empty space.
We went for a walk.
Not because it solved anything.
Because nobody knew what to do with the rest of the morning.
That evening, Peter sent a photograph.
Milo slept on the floor beside an armchair.
The yellow duck lay beneath one paw.
A corner of Isabel’s drawing showed on a low shelf.
Beneath the photograph, Peter had written, He’s eaten. I’ve eaten. We’re both home.
I passed the phone around the table.
Noah held it longest.
Then he handed it back.
“He found the kitchen.”
In the photograph, the armchair stood just outside a narrow doorway.
Beyond it, we could see a cooker.
Lena smiled.
“He did.”
Later, I found Noah beside Charlie’s box.
He had brought the green ball out again.
For a moment, I thought he might ask whether we should have given it to Milo.
Instead, he placed it beside the photograph of Charlie in the cardboard spaceship.
“I can miss both of them, right?”
“Yes.”
“Even though Milo’s still here?”
“Still alive?”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
He looked toward the window.
Then closed the box.
The following Tuesday, Peter sent another message.
Would we like to come for tea sometime?
The children answered before Lena or I could.
We chose an afternoon.
Isabel began another drawing.
This one showed a small flat with an armchair, a kitchen, and a brown dog sleeping between them.
In one corner, she added a train station.
When I asked why, she shrugged.
“So we know where to visit.”
May you like
I found her a fresh pencil.
She still had people to put in the windows.
