Leo's lower lip trembled. He didn't understand sickness or Eustachian tubes. He only understood that his dad, his audience, his playmate, was unreachable. He clutched the rocket ship to his chest and ran from the room.
He didn't hear every syllable perfectly, but he heard the melody of her voice, the shape of her love. It was enough. He hugged her tighter, the stuffiness in his ears suddenly feeling less like a wall and more like a temporary, annoying curtain. A curtain that, with the next dose of decongestant and a good night's sleep, would eventually be drawn back. ears stuffy from cold
He found Sarah in the kitchen, her back to him as she made Leo a sandwich. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. She jumped, then relaxed, covering his hands with hers. Leo's lower lip trembled
Leo repeated himself, his little face crumpling with confusion. Alex leaned closer, tilting his good ear—was there a good one?—toward his son. He still couldn't make it out. The gap between them, usually filled with laughter and silly noises, was now a chasm of static. He clutched the rocket ship to his chest
Sarah sighed, a soft hiss he felt more than heard. She pointed to the tea, then mimed drinking, then placed a hand on his forehead. Her touch was cool and wonderful. He leaned into it, desperate for a connection that didn't require translation.
"He. Loves. You. And. So. Do. I. It. Will. Pass."
"I can't hear anything," he mumbled into her neck. "It's awful. Leo thinks I'm ignoring him."