Tabitha - Stay With Me

“I’m here now,” I say.

“Tabitha, stay with me.”

She looks at the car. Then back at me. Then at the house—our house—with the light still on in the kitchen, the two dinner plates still on the table, the food gone cold an hour ago. tabitha stay with me

The rain softens. Just a little. Just enough to hear her breathe. “I’m here now,” I say

“Then let me be late,” I say. “Let me be late and awful and whatever else I’ve been. But don’t leave. Don’t get in that car. Because once you do—” My throat closes up. I swallow. “Once you do, you take everything. The good mornings. The burnt toast. The way you hum when you think no one is listening. You take all of it, and I’ll be standing in this doorway for the rest of my life, saying it to no one.” Then at the house—our house—with the light still