“No, Victoria, it’s not.” He hesitates. For a second, I think he might say more, he might touch my cheek. Then the moment passes.

I can’t look at him anymore. I stare down at the deck and will myself not to cry. This is not about me. This is about Evan. Getting to see his sister again. Getting to see his father again. Evan and his sister reclaiming part of their family.

“I’ll bring him to the doctor’s office,” I say. “I’ll work with Dr. Curtin. If this means Evan can see you and Chelsea, I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you,” I say, on behalf of Evan. Then I don’t speak anymore because my throat is thick with tears and I don’t want to say something stupid, such as I’m lonely, too. Or even worse, I still love you.

Michael crosses to Evan. He starts to say his goodbye. Evan doesn’t take it well. Michael negotiates a compromise. One last round of Super Soaker warfare, then Evan can watch a show on the History Channel after Michael departs.

They return to their battle. I retreat inside the house to the upstairs master bath, where I splash water on my face and realize for the first time that my hair is snarled, my shirt is spattered with Evan’s blood, and I have dirt on both my knees. Doesn’t matter. Michael and Melinda, Melinda and Michael, two little lovebirds sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.

Downstairs, Michael and Evan are entering the family room, both pink-cheeked and water-soaked.

“What do you think?” Michael asks Evan. “Can I visit you again?”

Evan regards Michael thoughtfully. “You left me.”

“I was away longer than I thought I would be,” Michael says.

“You left.”

“I’m here now.”

“But you left.”

Michael finally concedes. “Yeah, buddy, I left. And I missed you every day, and I hurt every day, and I don’t want to hurt like that again. So here I am—”

“Leav-ing,” Evan singsongs.

“Returning,” Michael corrects. “I don’t live here anymore, Evan. I can’t stay, but I can come back.” He looks at me for support.

I add, “He can come back, Evan. You’ll see.”

Evan doesn’t look like he believes us, but he’s also tired from the morning’s events. He’s prepared to be mollified with TV, so I turn on cable, then escort my ex-husband to the door.

Michael doesn’t say goodbye, just turns and kisses me lightly on the cheek.

I stand there long after he’s departed, my fingers touching the spot on my skin as if that will keep him with me.