Solid Walls

Twelve Years Ago

A knock rapped against the door, and the thin, dark-haired woman looked up from where she was sitting on the floor in the middle of the windowless room. Her pen paused its furious writing, and she glanced guilty at the antique table in the corner, perched on some newspaper with an unopened can of paint beside it.

"Mom?" came a small voice.

"Ed, I told you, you shouldn't come up here. You don't ever come up here, remember? This is mom's special place, okay?"

There was a long pause before the voice came again. "Okay. I was just wondering...you didn't come down for supper, and Grandpa was worried."

"Oh, what—what time is it? I'm sorry, sweetie, I must've forgot. But that's okay, I'm not hungry anyway. You're not standing too close to the door, are you?"

"No." Another long pause. "Hey, Mom...it's a really clear night outside. We thought maybe you'd want to come stargazing? Just out the window, maybe?"

She closed her eyes.

"Mom?"

"What's going to be out tonight, do you know?"

"Grandpa says Jupiter, I think?"

"Oh good, that'll be beautiful."

"Will you come?" Ed asked.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I'm coming." She took a deep breath and hoisted herself up, leaving her notebook and pen on the floor. "But only if you do one thing for me, okay?" She opened the door and smiled a brilliant smile at the six-year-old looking up at her with eager eyes. "Will you hold my hand while we go down the stairs, Ed? I always feel stronger when you're holding my hand."

Ed nodded solemnly and clutched his mother's hand as they started together down the hall. She breathed in slow, deliberate breaths and focused on her son's voice as he started describing a frog he found in the creek that morning. She laughed.

Moira could still manage to get out of the room for a few minutes at a time, as long as she was doing it to be with her children. It drained her of almost everything, but she could still manage it.

For now.