My son was awake, watching the doorway.
When he saw me, he lifted his head.
"Did you find Wade?"
I sat beside him.
"Yes, sweetheart."
His eyes widened.
"Is he okay?"
I thought about the enormous man crying in the courtyard with a little red car in his hand.
"He's having a hard time."
Eli frowned.
"Is he sick?"
I shook my head.
"Not the way you are."
My son considered that.
"Then what's wrong?"
I looked at the cars beside his pillow.
I wanted to answer honestly without giving him more sadness than he needed to carry. Wade's grief belonged to Wade, and I didn't want to turn Eli into someone responsible for making an adult feel better.
So I chose my words carefully.
"Sometimes people feel very sad because they miss someone they love."
Eli looked thoughtful.
"Like when Grandma goes home?"
I smiled faintly.
"A little like that, but much bigger."
He nodded.
"Can you fix it?"
I swallowed.
"Not exactly."
He looked disappointed.
Then he reached for the blue car.
"Maybe racing helps."
I stared at him.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then I smiled through tears.
"Maybe it does."
Eli held the car against his chest.
"Is Wade coming tomorrow?"
I nodded.
"He said ten o'clock."
My son's face brightened.
"Good."
Then he frowned.
"Can you tell him he doesn't have to win?"
I laughed softly.
"Why?"
Eli shrugged.
"Because he looks sad."
I kissed his forehead.
"That's very kind of you."
My son looked toward the doorway.
Then he whispered, "I just want my friend back."
I held him for a long time.
And I understood that Wade wasn't the only person who had been afraid of losing someone.
The next morning, Eli woke before I did.
He had arranged the blue car, the green truck, and the yellow race car across the wooden track. A small empty space remained at the front.
I looked at the arrangement.
"Who's missing?"
Eli smiled.
"Wade's car."
I nodded.
"Of course."
At nine-fifty-five, my son began watching the door.
At nine-fifty-eight, he asked whether the clock was working.
At ten o'clock, he sat as upright as he comfortably could.
The hallway remained quiet.
At ten-oh-one, heavy footsteps approached.
Then Wade appeared.
He was wearing his familiar black T-shirt and leather vest. His beard had been combed, and his eyes looked tired but calmer than they had in the courtyard. A small plastic bag hung from one hand.
Eli's face lit up.
"WADE!"
The biker stopped in the doorway.