Turn 215 of 233

Take this role as my number one priority, over everything else. Nurture Kimo and provide a safe space when the world turns on him

Lena drives home from Dr. Okafor's office and the driving is the thing that is the quiet. Kimo is on the passenger seat looking out the window and the window is the thing that is the glass between him and the world and the world is the thing that is the moving past at forty-five miles an hour. He is quiet because the quiet is the thing he does when the processing is the thing that is the deep. Dr. Okafor said the world will come. The coming is the thing that is the not-yet. The not-yet is the thing that is the now-because-Lena-is-making-it-the-now.

The balcony. The concrete. The sky. Lena sits on the edge with her feet hanging over the city and Kimo is beside her, 243 pounds of seventeen-month-old boy sitting the way she sits — legs out, back straight, eyes on the horizon. His feet do not reach the edge. His feet are the thing that is the still-growing. Her feet are the thing that is the callused and the callused is the thing that is the earned. She looks at his feet and the looking is the thing that is the promise.

"Buddy," she says. "I need to tell you something."

Kimo looks at her. The looking is the thing that is the full attention. The full attention is the thing that is the Kimo — the thing that is the complete, the thing that is the nothing-held-back.

"You are the most important thing," Lena says. "Not the site. Not the crew. Not the running. Not the pressing. You. You are the thing that is the first. Before everything. Above everything. When the world comes — and Doctor said it will — I am the thing that is the wall. Not the wall that blocks. The wall that holds. The foundation. You said the foundation is strong. I am making it stronger."

Kimo looks at her for a long time. The long time is the thing that is the five seconds. His eyes are the thing that is the brown and the brown is the thing that is the steady. He does not speak. He is doing the thing that is the listening-with-the-body — the thing Dr. Okafor said is the thing that comes before the words, the thing that is the felt.

"Mama is the builder," he says. "Builder builds the foundation. Foundation is the thing that holds the house. Kimo is the house. Mama holds Kimo. That is the matching. Matching is the good."

He puts his hand on her arm. The hand is the thing that is the 243 pounds' hand on the 790 pounds' arm. The arm is the thing that is the tattooed — tribal black, sleeve to shoulder — and the hand is the thing that is the on it. The on-it is the thing that is the contact and the contact is the thing that is the real.

"But Mama," he says. "The foundation doesn't hold the house by being the wall. The foundation holds the house by being the under. Under is the thing that is the not-seen. Under is the thing that is the always-there. Mama doesn't have to be the wall. Mama has to be the under. Under is stronger than wall. Wall is the thing that is the against. Under is the thing that is the for. For is the thing that is the stronger than against."

Lena looks at him. The looking is the thing that is the wet and the wet is the thing that is the not-embarrassing because the not-embarrassing is the thing that is the gone. The gone is the thing that is the old-Lena. This Lena — the 790-pound, tattooed, naked, barefoot Lena — does not have the thing that is the embarrassment about the wet. The wet is the thing that is the matching. The matching is the good.

"Okay, buddy," she says. "I'll be the under."

Kimo nods. The nodding is the thing that is the satisfied. He goes back to looking at the horizon and the horizon is the thing that is the city and the city is the thing that is the lights coming on because the lights are the thing that is the evening.

The next morning Lena calls Janet. The calling is the thing that is the early — six AM, before Kimo wakes, before the site. Janet picks up on the second ring and the second ring is the thing that says Janet was already awake because Janet is the thing that is the keeper and the keeper is the thing that is the early.

"Mom," Lena says. "I need to tell you something. Not about Kimo's development. About mine."

Janet is quiet. The quiet is the thing that says the listening is the thing that is the ready.

"Dr. Okafor said the world will come for him. People will be afraid. They'll try to make him small. They'll try to categorize him, test him, place him in a box that doesn't fit. And when they do, I need to be the thing that holds. Not the wall — Kimo corrected me. The under. The foundation that is always there, that is for him, that doesn't need to be against the world. Just for him."

"That's what mothers do," Janet says. Her voice is the thing that is the simple and the simple is the thing that is the true.

"No," Lena says. "That's what builders do. I'm a builder. I build the foundation. But I need you and Dad to be part of it. Dad is the watcher — Kimo said that. The watcher sees what's coming. I need Dad to watch for the world coming. And you're the keeper. You keep the record. You keep the words. You keep the notebook. When the world tries to say he's something he's not, the notebook is the thing that says what he is. The notebook is the proof."

Janet is quiet for a long time. The long time is the thing that is the mother hearing her daughter ask her to be the thing that she already is but the asking is the thing that is the making-it-official.

"I'll tell your father," Janet says. "He needs to hear this. Not from you — from me. He needs to hear that Kimo's foundation isn't just you. It's all of us. The watcher, the keeper, the builder, the runner, the understander. That's what Kimo said. That's what Kimo built."

"Tell him the foundation is strong," Lena says. "Tell him I said that. And tell him — tell him I'm making it stronger."

She hangs up. The hanging-up is the thing that is the done and the done is the thing that is the beginning. Kimo is stirring on the concrete beside her — the 243 pounds shifting, the eyes opening, the morning is the thing that is the new day. The new day is the thing that is the site. The site is the thing that is the work. The work is the thing that is the building. And the building is the thing that is the everything — the houses and the foundation and the boy and the mother and the under.

"Morning, buddy," Lena says.

"Morning, Mama," Kimo says. He sits up. He looks at the city. The city is the thing that is the waking up too.

"Mama," he says. "Today Kimo builds."

"Today we build," Lena says.

"We," Kimo says. The word is the thing that is the two letters and the two letters are the thing that is the not-alone.

"We is the good word. We is the bridge."

He stands. 243 pounds, 59 inches, seventeen months old. He stands on the concrete the way his mother stands — bare feet flat, body solid, eyes forward. He is the thing that is the ready. The ready is the thing that is the Kimo. And Lena is the thing that is the under.