Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
“That’s a lie.” He peered at me a moment before avoiding my gaze. “And I like school.”
“Just a little lie.” My smile began to droop. “A white lie.”
Wait. Was I really explaining myself to a five-year-old?
What was going on here? A.J. wasn’t acting like himself.
After a moment of puzzlement, a thought dawned and I recognized how selfish I was being. He was just a little boy, and perhaps today was harder for him than I thought. Maybe he had just started to figure out exactly what he’d lost in losing his father.
Chances were, even though I needed a distraction, maybe A.J. needed the time to process what he was feeling. And my chest ached.
Could he be mourning as I was?
I sighed inwardly and my smile turned sad. “That’s okay, honey. Next time.” But I couldn’t help the feeling of disconnection between us.
And then we were home.
I pulled into the drive and turned off the car. Before I got out, I turned in my seat to look back at my sweet boy.
“Hey,” I started, and when he looked up me with those long, dark lashes, I melted. “I know today wasn’t easy.” I put my hand on his knee. “Are you okay?”
He was stoic a long moment, my baby, and then shook his head but remained stone-faced. I gave him time and a full minute went by before he dipped his chin, and carefully uttered, “If somebody told me something... a secret... and I want to tell someone else, is that okay?”
I thought about A.J.’s little friends, and asked, “Is the secret hurting anybody?”
A.J. thought about it. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Honey, when somebody tells you a secret, it’s not your secret to tell. And when somebody is telling you that secret, they’re trusting you to keep that for them.” I reached over and ran my fingers down the side of his face. “You sure this secret isn’t hurting anybody?”
He looked down, and those long lashes glanced his cheeks. He then gave a firm nod. “I’m sure.”
Thank God.
I wasn’t sure I could deal with much more upset today. “Okay, then no, sweetie. You shouldn’t tell anybody.”
“Not even you?” he queried sensibly.
“Me?” I pinched his cheek lightly, playfully, and he broke out into a huge smile. “You can tell me anything.” I winked at him. “We don’t keep secrets, right?”
I didn’t understand it. He looked visibly upset but whispered, “Right.”
Uh oh.
Not good.
My heart stuttered as I helped him out of his seat. I got out of the car and pulled him to me, hugging him to my side. His arm went around my waist.
What was going on with my boy? I was suddenly anxious.
“You can tell me anything.” I looked down at him, unblinking. “Anything at all. And I won’t get upset. I’ll just listen if you need me to, but—” I stopped, stood in his path, and knelt down, looking my son deep in the eye. “—we don’t keep secrets from each other, buddy.”
He nodded slowly, wisely, as though he was caught in a predicament and wasn’t sure how to proceed.
Shit.
It worried me.
Once inside, I let my bag slide off my shoulder onto the breakfast bar and hesitantly glanced back to the little boy standing awkwardly in the doorway. We continued to look at each other a while before I asked, “You got something to say to me, bud?”
A second later, he nodded. “Yeah.” He shuffled his feet.
He had something important to tell me; I could feel it, as a mother does. I gave him my undivided attention. “What is it?”
A.J. spoke, and I wasn’t prepared for what he said. Not at all.
“Well, sometimes, late at night...”
Oh, this was not starting well. My heart immediately began to race.
“Sometimes...” He looked down at the skirting and rubbed his shoe against it. His voice lowered a few decibels. “Sometimes, Daddy comes to see me.”
The pressure in my heart released, the tight band uncoiling.
Oh, Lord.
Today was not the day.
I felt like crying.
“Baby.” My eyes closed of their own accord and I let out a humorless laugh, forcing down the thickness in my throat. I pulled him into me and squeezed him tightly, rocking him from side-to-side, kissing his temple.
He hugged me back just as hard and I explained a few things to him.
“I know it feels that way.” I kissed him again. “Daddy comes to me too sometimes.” I pulled back and watched him cautiously. “In my mind. In my dreams.”
“No.” A.J. shook his head. “Not in my dreams, Mummy. It’s real.”
Oh, sweetie... no.
My heart broke as I tried to explain to him that what he was feeling, what he was seeing, was nothing more than a coping mechanism. I should know. At one point, Twitch would be in my room every single night and I would talk to him. He never responded to my anxious questions. It took me a while and a whole lot of therapy for me to realize I was psychologically hurting myself.