Inseparable
As the days went by, Preston became my sole responsibility. It wasn't something anyone decided; it just happened. He hardly let anyone else touch him, except me. Whenever someone else tried—even Mother Charity—Preston would burst into tears, his little hands reaching out for me.
Feeding him became my job. I would coax him into eating when he refused, patiently blowing on spoonfuls of soup until it was just the right temperature. Bathing him also became a shared ritual. He'd splash water at me, laughing for the first time since he arrived, and in those moments, the weight of his sadness seemed to lift, if only for a little while.
At night, he wouldn't sleep unless I was beside him. His small hand would clutch my shirt as if afraid I might disappear. Sometimes, I'd wake up to find him curled up against my chest, his breathing soft and even. In those moments, I felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility and love for this tiny boy who trusted me completely.
We became inseparable. When the other kids played outside, Preston would follow me like a shadow, his tiny legs working double time to keep up. If anyone tried to tease him or take away his toys, I would step in immediately, my voice firm and protective. The bullies quickly learned not to mess with Preston as long as I was around.
Mother Charity often smiled when she saw us together. "You're good for him, Caleb," she would say. Deep down, I knew he was good for me, too. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had a purpose. Preston wasn't just a responsibility; he was my family.
One rainy afternoon, after four years of being together, we sat by the window watching the raindrops slide down the glass. Preston turned to me and asked, "Why did my mommy leave me here?" His voice was barely a whisper.
My heart broke for him. I didn't have an answer that would make the pain go away, but I wrapped my arms around him and said the only thing I could: "I don't know, buddy. But I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."
He rested his head on my shoulder, and for the first time, I felt his small arms wrap around me in a hug. It was a quiet moment, but it solidified what I already knew: Preston wasn't just a part of my life—he was my life. We were so close that not even Mother Charity could separate us, and I would go to any length to make sure he was loved and protected.