I blinked. “What?”
“If he takes four pairs, that’s usually three sleeps. Five means maybe four.”
“I ask how many socks Dad packs. Because socks tell you how long.”
I thought of all those mornings Toby sat on our bed while Julian packed.
I’d assumed he simply enjoyed helping.
“That’s why you count his socks?” I asked.
“Obviously.”
“And the hotel chair?”
Toby’s eyes narrowed.
“What hotel chair?”
I’d assumed he simply enjoyed helping.
“You ask Dad almost every trip if his hotel room has a chair.”
“Oh… that.”
“Why?”
He looked toward the bedroom doorway.
Then pointed downstairs.
“Dad sits in that chair.”
Julian’s brown recliner.
The one Travel Dad had occupied.
“You ask Dad almost every trip if his hotel room has a chair.”
I finally understood.
Toby wasn’t asking about furniture.
He was checking whether some version of home existed wherever Julian had gone.
My heart ached.
