Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Did she really have to show up every time they needed her, just because they needed her?

"Fine. Suit yourself. I'm hanging up now."

Vince stepped out of the bedroom, water glass in hand, intent on refilling it. He paused when he saw the kitchen light was still on.

The air was thick with the warm, buttery aroma of something baking—a blend of milk and eggs.

He walked quietly to the kitchen doorway and found Jessica standing at the counter, deftly spreading frosting over a cake.

She was making a cake?

Today was Henry's birthday.

She remembered.

Vince lingered in the shadows, keeping his distance.

About half an hour later, Jessica emerged from the kitchen, carrying the cake.

It was small-maybe six inches across-but carefully decorated, the creamy swirls on top forming a delicate pattern.

Vince watched her from behind a wall, hidden, silent.

He expected Jessica to box up the cake and take it to the hospital. Instead, she carried it straight back to her room.

Vince trailed her upstairs.

closed behind

was slip outside, making his way to the balcony outside Jessica's bedroom. From the far corner, separated by the glass, he watched as she set the cake on the coffee table in

would have

pulled out a scrapbook filled

open

saw

Jessica read through

pictures of her and Henry

of her keeping vigil at his bedside when he was sick,

of them napping together in

watching TV, Henry planting a kiss on

So many memories.

paper-cut image tugged her back

old enough to remember, he'd captured-painstakingly,

of the two of them working on

to Oakwood, when she overheard Henry

once promised Jessica that when he could finish a book all by himself, he'd give

He remembered.

the end, he gave his first completed

onto