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.

door closed

do 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 front of the sofa, then lit

would

pulled out a scrapbook filled with paper-cut

flipped open

saw her dabbing at

time, Jessica read

her and Henry

of her keeping vigil at his bedside when he was sick, never

together

TV, Henry planting a kiss

So many memories.

image tugged her back to when that moment

things Henry was old enough to remember, he'd captured-painstakingly, vividly,

picture of the two of them working on paper-cuts

to Oakwood, when she overheard Henry telling Sheila he wanted to give

promised Jessica that when he could finish a book all by himself,

He remembered.

he gave his first completed

tear fell onto