On the Way Home

The cab ride home was tense. Not even Jax was cooing much. The only sound was from the cab driver's AM radio, where a self-proclaimed political analyst was airing the dirty laundry of a senator.

I tuned it out and thought back to when I'd just given birth. In those cab rides, Ryan always made sure to be in the backseat with me so he could play with Jax all the way home. Ryan would gently poke Jax's nose and stroke his cheek. He'd speak gibberish in that high-pitched baby talk all parents seem to adopt — I found it hilarious since his voice is deep and husky. As we played with Jax, every so often, Ryan and I would catch each other's eyes, and he'd lean over to kiss me. A sweet, gentle kiss, with lips soft as pillows. After those lingering kisses, our eyes shone brighter than before.

Lately, though, he's been sitting up front, his dull eyes fixed straight ahead.