At 7:36, Ethan wandered into the kitchen.
He saw the screen.
He did not celebrate.
He simply opened the refrigerator.
“Eggs?”
I looked at him.
“That’s all you have to say?”
“You’re gathering information.”
“Yes.”
“That is not yet a decision.”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Then eggs.”
Sometimes raising a genius was profoundly annoying.
Three weeks later, Denise returned to Ohio.
Not for a ceremony.
Not with a cake.
Not with Jonathan.
She came alone.
She asked whether she could take Ethan to lunch.
I said yes.
He said yes.
I did not go.
That was harder than I expected.
For ten years, I had been the person beside him for everything.
Doctors.
Teachers.
Competitions.
Airports.
Bad nights.
Good mornings.
Letting him walk out the door with Denise felt like loosening a knot I had tied around my own heart.
But trust could not grow if I supervised every minute.
