The next morning, Leo insisted on taking his new stroller to the park.
I watched from a bench as he pushed it toward the soccer field. Three boys from his class stopped kicking the ball when they saw him.
I recognized Jamie and Cole right away.
The tallest one pointed first. “Why are you pushing a baby around? That’s for girls!”
“Yeah, are you a mommy now?” Cole added, doubling over.
I asked him who Carol was.
I was already on my feet, walking fast across the grass.
Leo did not flinch. He did not look for me. He stopped the stroller in front of them and pointed at the doll inside.
“I’m not the mommy,” Leo said, in that clear, careful voice. “I’m taking care of Carol’s baby until she comes back.”
Carol.
“Dad said it was our secret.”
Leo turned the stroller around and pushed it back toward me.
On the walk home, I kept my voice light.
I asked him who Carol was.
“She’s bigger than me,” Leo said, kicking a pebble. “We played with dinosaurs at her house. She let me hold the baby.”
“Her house? When were you at her house, buddy?”
Can we get rid of that thing?
“With Daddy. A lot of times.” Leo looked up at me, cheerful. “The stroller is Carol’s. That’s why I wanted it. I recognized it.”
The sidewalk seemed to tilt under me.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about Carol, sweetie?”
Leo shrugged with his whole small body. “Dad said it was our secret.”
I squeezed his hand.
That was the moment Carol stopped sounding like an imaginary friend.
“He calls everything a secret.”
That evening, Greg came into the kitchen and gestured at the stroller parked by the coat rack.
“Han, seriously. Can we get rid of that thing? It’s cluttering the hallway.”
I stirred the pasta and did not turn around. “Apparently it reminds Leo of Carol.”
The spoon in my hand kept moving. Behind me, everything else stopped.
“What?”
“That’s what he told the boys at the park today.” I kept my voice mild, curious. “He said he was taking care of Carol’s baby until she came back. Who’s Carol?”
“It’s complicated, Han. I was handling it.”
Greg cleared his throat. “Oh. Right. She’s an acquaintance’s kid. I took Leo over there once to drop off some paperwork. Nothing.”
“Once?”
“Maybe twice. Han, why does this matter?”
“He said it was your secret.”
He walked to the sink and ran water he didn’t need. “He’s six. He calls everything a secret.”
I would have more facts than I wanted.
“He said you told him it was.”
“Trust me.” He turned off the tap and dried his hands on a dish towel he then folded twice. “It’s complicated, Han. I was handling it. Kids make a bigger deal out of these things than they are.”
I could feel the shape of every late pickup, every face-down phone, every call taken in the garage settling quietly into place inside my chest.
“Okay.”
That night I lay in the dark next to my husband and made myself a promise.
I opened the message box.
