Sebastian stopped when he saw it.
A long cardboard table.
Small chairs.
Paper plates.
A blue cake.
For a second, he feared the birthday dinner remained larger inside his son than he understood.
Then Teddy pointed.
“That’s Jonah.”
Sebastian leaned closer.
“And Nell. Rose. Mum. You.”
There were other figures too.
Mrs. Bell.
The chef.
A school friend whose mother worked late.
Sebastian counted.
“Everyone’s sitting.”
Teddy looked at him as though that were obvious.
“It’s dinner.”
His teacher smiled.
“He’s been very particular about the chairs.”
“I can see that.”
Teddy lifted one cardboard seat.
“I made extras.”
“What for?”
“If somebody comes.”
Sebastian looked at the model for a long time.
Then he asked about the cake.
“It’s not a birthday one.”
“What is it?”
“Just cake.”
His son pointed toward the display next to his.
“Come see Ben’s airport. The plane falls off if you breathe.”
They moved on.
Sebastian did not turn the model into a speech.
He did not tell the teacher the whole story within Teddy’s hearing.
Later, on the drive home, he asked whether the dining room could come to the house after the exhibition.
Teddy nodded.
“Can it go in the sitting room?”
“Yes.”
“Not the office?”
“The sitting room.”
It stayed there for months.
The chairs occasionally fell over.
They put them upright.
Teddy’s ninth birthday approached quietly.
Sebastian asked about it six weeks in advance.
His son looked suspicious.
“Do I have to know already?”
“No. I’m asking early so we have time.”
