Chapter 13 - THE FIRST TIME LEO CALLED ME SOMETHING DIFFERENT
We told Leo the truth slowly.
Not everything.
Seven-year-olds do not need trust litigation, forged letters, or adult betrayal.
They need simple truths they can safely hold.
Jessi sat beside him on the couch.
I sat across from them.
She said:
“Ivan is your biological father.”
Leo looked at me.
Then at her.
Then back at me.
“Like my real dad?”
My throat tightened.
I answered carefully.
“Biologically, yes.”
“Why weren’t you here?”
There was no painless answer.
“I didn’t know you were here.”
He frowned.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.”
“Mom knew.”
“Yes.”
“Grandma Wendy knew.”
I looked at Jessi.
She nodded.
“Yes.”
His little face became serious.
“Did you leave me?”
“No.”
That answer came instantly.
“No, Leo. I did not know about you. If I had known, I would have wanted to meet you.”
He studied me with those familiar blue-gray eyes.
“Even when I was a baby?”
“Especially then.”
“Babies cry a lot.”
“So I’ve heard.”
He smiled slightly.
Then:
“Are you going away again?”
That question almost destroyed me.
“I still have work sometimes.”
“You’re in the Army?”
“Not active duty anymore.”
“So you can stay?”
I looked at Jessi.
She watched me carefully.
“I can be nearby.”
Leo thought about that.
“You could come to my rocket day.”
“What’s rocket day?”
His face lit up.
Apparently, asking the correct question is powerful.
He talked for ten minutes.
School competition.
Water rockets.
Teams.
Parents.
Then he stopped.
“You need a grown-up partner.”
Jessi said:
“I was going to do it.”
Leo looked at her.
“You can both do it.”
I laughed.
“That seems fair.”
He ran upstairs to get the instructions.
Jessi looked at me.
“You don’t have to say yes to everything because you’re guilty.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I’m learning.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
Then she handed me a letter.
Not one from seven years ago.
New.
Leo had written it at school weeks earlier.
Assignment:
A person I wish I could meet.
The first line read:
I wish I could meet my dad because Mom says he used to be brave.
I had to stop reading.
At the bottom Leo had drawn a soldier beside a rocket.
He had imagined me before he knew my face.
Then he came running downstairs.
“Did she show you?”
“Yes.”
“Is it weird?”
“No.”
My voice broke.
“It’s pretty great.”
He climbed onto the chair beside me.
Then, without thinking, he said:
“Dad, look at this part.”
Everyone froze.
Leo froze too.
His eyes became huge.
“I mean Ivan.”
I swallowed.
“You can call me whatever feels right.”
He stared at the page.
Then quietly:
“Okay.”
May you like
But five minutes later he said Dad again.
This time, nobody corrected him.
