“You’re not upset?” I said.

“At least you’re choosing your own life.”

I shook my head. “I’m not someone to look up to, Natalie.”

“I want to go with you,” she said.

I thought about the furniture in her room, her desk, her bed. I was overwhelmed trying to picture all her belongings in the moving truck. It wouldn’t be big enough for her furniture in addition to mine. “You can’t.”

An image of Jasper: golden-brown skin in red swim trunks, running on the beach. He was wading in the ocean, the waves splashing up on his thighs, laughter deep in his throat, spilling out into the California air. “I have to find Jasper,” I said.

“The three of us could be together.” Her voice sounded faint, as if she were out of breath.

I conjured an image of Jasper and Natalie playing together. I could see them laughing and running and swimming. I could see them Rollerblading on the boardwalk. I could hear the waves lapping against the shore. I could smell the salt water and feel the breeze against the back of my neck.

A minute later I was in the room again with Natalie, looking at her slim form in front of me. She didn’t draw comfort from images.

“Jasper doesn’t exist.” As I spoke those words, I felt a blow to my solar plexus, as if someone had punched me with full force. I recovered my breath. “Not actually.”

“Then where are you going?” she asked.

“To find him.”

Her eyes drifted to my abdomen. I looked down and saw that my hand was clasping my middle in a protective gesture. Natalie was watching me closely. She looked from my hand to my eyes and back again to my hand. “My mom said you lost the baby.”

I nodded.

“She says it’s her fault.”

She approached closer and placed her hand on my stomach, next to mine. “Did you lose the baby?” She locked eyes with me.

I gently removed her hand from my stomach.

Her eyes welled up with tears. I put my arms around her and kissed the crown of her head.

She looked up at me. “I’ll miss you, Delta.”

Saying goodbye to Natalie was the worst thing I ever had to do.

FIVE YEARS LATER

I hang up his backpack in his cubby. We put his lunch below. Then I hug him and kiss him goodbye. “I love you, boo-boo.” After I leave Jasper’s classroom, I peer through the small high window in the hallway. He can’t see me but I can see him. He’s standing by himself. I watch him until he sits on the rug next to a little girl. They start talking. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I can see him laugh like he’s enjoying her company. Then she pulls out a box of Magna-Tiles. They start by building a tower together.