Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 134045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
The truth of what Lance and I had been wasn’t ugly at all. It wasn’t beautiful. There was too much damage there, on both sides. There wasn’t enough knowing. Wasn’t enough sharing.
But it was special.
It could’ve been something beautiful.
Entertaining lies our relationship might have made it easier to get over, but I didn’t want it to be easy to get over. It shouldn’t be.
So, pulling into our new driveway, with Nathan chattering about the fact that yes, he did indeed like ketchup on hamburgers and a lot of other things, so he should give ketchup on oatmeal another shot, I wasn’t even close to getting over Lance.
And there he was, standing at the front frickin’ door. It was only then I noticed the SUV parked at the curb. I should have been more observant. Considering the circumstances. But I wasn’t.
Hence me only noticing the SUV after Nathan screeched “Captain!” at the top of his lungs and I noticed the figure at the front door and the car at the curb.
The worst part was, my very first instinct was relief. Even joy. Every knot in my muscles released. Until my brain caught up, that was. Then they all tensed up tenfold.
“Mom! Captain is back from saving the world!” Nathan yelled, pointing helpfully at the man whose shades were focused on us pulling into the driveway.
The joy in my son’s voice punched me, right in the gut. It was a kind of joy that had been absent for the past two months. A five-year-old’s world is small. They are still collecting experiences, deepening the well of the best and worst things that can happen to them. Nathan’s had been shallow in regards to the worst things that could happen, before Robert came back into our life. Even then, he didn’t gauge it as particularly traumatic, more confusing than anything else. Because his life had been so short, he didn’t dwell on things for a long time, his perception of time was different. That’s why kids as a whole, didn’t tend to hold onto a lot of things that happened to them. They got over tantrums quickly, skinned knees. But Nathan did not get over Lance’s absence quickly.
Lance had created something very big in my son’s small life. So when he left, he left a huge hole.
And because he was a kid, that hole was easily filled back up again, without question, without hesitation.
That broke my freaking heart. Because as much as I loved to hear happiness in my little boy’s voice, I didn’t know how long it would be before it was all sucked out. I didn’t know why Lance was back, how long he’d stay for. I could not promise Nathan that he’d yet again have to figure a way to live around that hole, figure out a way to pave over it. And that wasn’t okay.
I parked the car. Took a breath. Grabbed my phone from my purse, shot out a quick text. Turned in my seat to face my ecstatic kid. “Nathan, when I let you out of the car, walk down the street to Aunty Karen.” I glanced down at my phone as it vibrated, thanking all the gods that my friends had their phones on them constantly and that they worked from home. “She’s going to meet you halfway between here and their place. She’s gonna make cookies with you.”
The cookie thing did not have its desired effect.
Immediately Nathan’s bottom lip jutted out and his eyes watered. “But Mom, I don’t wanna see Aunty Karen. I want to say hello to Captain.”
I swallowed at seeing the hurt in Nathan’s face, telling myself that it was for the best. “I know you do. But your mommy is telling you to go and bake cookies with Aunty Karen, so that’s what you’re gonna do.”
Tears began forming in Nathan’s eyes. “But why?”
“Because I said so,” I uttered, making sure my voice was firm and not full of my own tears. Then, before he could protest any more, I unbuckled my seatbelt, got out of the car and got Nathan out.
He was not a happy camper.
As in arms folded, feet splayed, grimace in place in a very familiar stance.
“Nathan,” I warned in the mom voice I very rarely had to use with my well-behaved five-year-old.
He did not heed the mom voice that usually garnered immediate obedience since my kid also hated getting in trouble. I didn’t even know where he got that from, since he’d never really been ‘in trouble’ apart from one time he used the only expensive lipstick I owned to ‘paint me a picture’ on the walls. Or the time he’d used the crazy fancy cleanser Eliza and Karen got me for Christmas to make a bubble bath.
Even then, as mad as I’d been, he’d been too cute, too sorry for him to get into any real trouble. I was sure he’d grow out of this adorable trait and start acting like a little asshole.