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<\/figure>\n\n\n\n\u201cEthan?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My heart began to race. I hadn\u2019t told her my name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow did you recognize me?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cEthan, please\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sirens sounded in the distance. As I turned toward them, I noticed the toy truck still pressed against Leo\u2019s chest. Its red paint was worn, and one wheel was black while the other three were not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had owned a truck exactly like it as a child. When one of its wheels broke, my father replaced it with a black wheel from another toy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLeo, where did you get that truck?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMy mom gave it to me. I\u2019ve always had it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at her. Tears filled her eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat used to be mine,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The paramedics arrived before she could answer. I stepped aside while they examined her and prepared to take her to the hospital. Then another memory surfaced. I was nineteen when I gave her that truck at the train station. It had been a clumsy way of asking her not to forget me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I moved closer to the stretcher.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhy did you give it to Leo?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She looked at the boy. \u201cBecause it\u2019s part of his story, too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I couldn\u2019t make sense of that. Leo was five; far more than five years had passed since I\u2019d last seen her. I wasn\u2019t going to guess what she meant from a few words and an old toy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat story?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019ll tell you when I can. Not here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The paramedics helped Leo into the ambulance with his mother. Just before the doors closed, he held up his truck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMr. Ethan? When Mom gets better, do you want to see my other cars?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019d like that,\u201d I told him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I watched the ambulance drive away. My phone kept vibrating with work calls and messages, but I didn\u2019t look at it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That morning, a little boy had knocked on my window and led me to a woman I never expected to see again. She still had a piece of my childhood, and she knew something about Leo that she wasn\u2019t ready to tell me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When she recovered, I would listen to the whole story.<\/p>\n\n\n\n