That answer led to months of evaluations and endless forms.
A counselor I was required to meet with asked, “How are you managing your grief?”
“Not well,” I admitted. “But I’m still standing.”
The first time I saw them in person, it was inside a visitation room with harsh lighting and mismatched chairs. The four of them sat crammed together on one couch, shoulders and knees pressed tight.
I took a seat opposite them.
“Hey, I’m Michael.”
Ruby buried her face in Owen’s shirt. Cole focused on my shoes. Tessa crossed her arms, chin lifted, all suspicion. Owen studied me like someone far older than nine.
“Are you the man who’s taking us?” he asked.
“If you want me to be.”
“All of us?” Tessa asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “All of you. I’m not interested in just one.”
Her lips twitched slightly. “What if you change your mind?”
“I won’t. You’ve had enough people do that already.”
Ruby peeked out. “Do you have snacks?”
I grinned. “Yeah, I’ve always got snacks.”
Karen let out a soft chuckle behind me.
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