Page 61 of Faron
“I wasn’t,” I said. “You were with me every day. Even when I didn’t know where you were.”
Her chin trembled. “She years ago. Cancer. Wouldn’t tell me anything. Just silence.”
I reached out, slow, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t need her answers anymore.”
Her eyes filled. “You’rereallyhere.”
“I’m really here.”
She stepped forward and hugged me like the years hadn’t passed.
“I missed you,” she choked out. “Every damn day.”
“I missed you, too, Aponi.”
She pulled back, wiped her face, and grinned through tears. “Let’s go get a beer.”
“I could use one.”
We started walking.
“You sure have grown,” she said. “Is my dad…?”
“He passed a couple years ago.”
Her smile faltered. “I wish I had known him. I wish…
He prayed for you every day.”
“I grew up in Idaho. Homeschooled. Barely saw anyone. She changed everything—first and last names. But when she died… I found the name Aponi Lightfoot in her drawer. I remembered it. So I started using it again. All my friends call me Aponi.”
“Did she ever mention me?” I asked quietly.
“She always said how much she missed you. I thought it was grief. Now I wonder…”
“She might’ve missed me. But she took you both away.”
“Yeah.” She exhaled slowly. “But I’m finding my way back now.”
56
Aponi
There he is again—the homeless man near the corner.
The one I talk to sometimes.
He always thanks me for calling him “sir.” Like it means something. Like itrestoressomething.
And maybe it does.
I don’t know what Faron’s showing up means for my life. I don’t know what it changes.
But for the first time in forever…
I’m not scared to find out.
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