Known unknowns

 

“He is fine.”

“He is fine.”

In their new bed in the largest of the two bedrooms in their new apartment, Truly rolled over to face her husband’s cheek. “How can you say that?”

“Because you just said it.” Jean placed his forehead next to hers. Long after midnight, at the end of Truly’s first full week of work, the only light in the room slinked in from a hallway sconce through the crack of the closed bedroom door.

“Edgar is seventeen now. Celebrated his birthday somewhere without me and Topsy to smush cake in his face.”

“That’s what big sisters are for. When did you last hear from Topsy?”

“Earlier this week. A memo on official Space Corps stationery,” which Truly retrieved from her nightstand for Jean to admire. “She told me not to worry about either of them.”

“But that is what big sisters do. They also know their little brothers better than their little brothers know themselves.”

Truly’s anxiety lessened. “Edgar is smart and talented and wily. And resilient.”

“And a triple threat. Quadruple, actually.”

“Comedy?”

“He makes me laugh.”

In the darkness, Jean smiled at her memories of Edgar reluctantly taking the stage at past family gatherings, putting on an impromptu show, and relishing the applause that capped every one of his song and dance routines. Under the covers, she pulled Jean’s arm over her torso. “He can take care of himself.”

“You taught him how. He is fine.”