“Whatever. ” Bobby sighs. It is a terrible, harrowing sound; in it, I hear his defeat.
At last, Daniel says, “Well, I’m Irish, and we’re a crazy lot. ”
Bobby draws in a sharp breath. It’s the sound of hope, this time. “Nana used to say a leprechaun lived in her cookie jar. ”
Daniel smiles at that. “My point exactly. I guess, boyo, for you I can try to believe, too. But you’ll have to show me how. ”
“Really?”
“Really. ”
“How do I show you?”
Daniel shrugs. “Tell me about her, I guess. Keep talking until I believe. ”
Bobby hurls himself into his father’s arms.
I see the way Daniel holds his son, with a ferocity that is borne of desperate love. When Bobby draws back, they are both smiling.
See me, I whisper, wanting it so much my chest hurts. Please.
“Can we open presents now?”
“Aye. ”
Bobby runs to the tree and starts dispersing gifts. Most of them collect in a pile on the coffee table. On his last pass, he reaches deep under the tree and pulls out the orange Dr. Seuss book. It has a yellow ribbon stuck dead center. Carrying it carefully, he hands it to his dad, who is now seated on the sofa.
“You’re giving me your favorite book, boyo?”
“Nope. ” Bobby sits down next to Daniel, then opens the book.
“You want me to read to you?” Daniel asks, frowning. “How about . . . ”
“Be quiet. I gotta think. ” He scrunches up his face, concentrating hard. One syllable at a time, he sounds out the words. “I . . . am . . . Sam. Sam . . . I . . . am . . . ”
“Bobby. ”
“Sshh, Daddy. ‘I . . . do . . . not . . . like . . . green . . . eggs . . . and . . . ham. ’”
I listen to Bobby’s sweet, stumbling voice, but it is Daniel to whom I look. At first he is sitting upright, in control, but as his son sounds out the words, I see Daniel’s control wash away. Everything about him softens—the look in his green eyes, the shelf of his broad shoulders, and the hard line of his spine.
Love. Never have I seen it so clearly or longed for it more desperately.
I’m part of this, I say to them. See me, too.
When Bobby finishes the book, he looks up at his dad. “You’re cryin’. Did I do bad?”
Daniel touches his son’s cheek. “Your mum would be so proud of you. ”
Tears sting my eyes, make everything blurry, and I’m glad. I need this moment to be out of focus.
“Joy taught me every day. ”
Daniel stares down at his son for a long moment. “Did she now? Then I guess your Joy has a place here, doesn’t she?”
“I miss her, Dad. ”
“I know, but you’ve got your old man, and he’s not going anywhere. ”