One year after the day at the airport, Tyler and I returned to the place where he had handed me the black card.
We weren’t there to say goodbye.
We were there to pick up my sister, who was visiting for the weekend.
While we waited near the arrivals gate, Tyler slipped his hand into mine.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Do you still have the card?”
I smiled.
“Of course.”
“Can I see it?”
I took it from my wallet and handed it to him.
He turned it over, examining the plain black surface.
“I was so scared that day,” he admitted. “I thought if Dad found out what I was doing, I’d never see you again.”
I closed my fingers around his.
“You shouldn’t have had to make that choice.”
“I know.”
He looked at the card one last time.
“Grandpa always said money could solve a lot of problems, but it couldn’t tell you who to trust.”
