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When Dean and I are alone he walks over to me in four ground eating strides and before I can even say anything, his lips are on mine. It feels as good as a breeze after standing in stifling still heat. I immediately melt into the kiss. It is an urgent hello more than a demand, but my mouth opens under his and I groan when I feel his tongue touch mine.
We stand there, kissing each other, my hands around his neck, his at my waist. These lips of his, supple and smooth, know mine. They were made to mate, and they fit together so well. The kiss goes on for what could be minutes, or days, until I hear Anthony’s voice, tiny and confused.
“Mommy?”
We jump apart and my focus is immediately on my son. He's standing there with his binder of drawings in his hand. His little face is full of confusion.
“Mommy, why are you kissing him?” He's looking at Dean with a wary eye.
“Anthony, baby. Mommy . . .” I have no clue what to say. I feel like I’ve been hit between the eyes with a brick. I look over my shoulder at Dean.
“Is he my daddy now, Mommy?” He points at Dean as his lower lip starts to wobble.
Dean bends down in front of Anthony. “Hey, buddy. Mommy is kissing me because we are friends and sometimes when mommy makes a new friend, she kisses him to tell him she likes him. It doesn’t mean your daddy isn’t your daddy anymore. He will always be your daddy.” He reaches out to touch Anthony’s head and I gather my thoughts.
“Anthony, you know how Daddy lives with Rachael now?” I ask him. He nods slowly.
“That doesn’t mean she's your mommy, okay? She's Daddy’s friend who will help take care of you when you’re with Daddy.” I feel like I'm floundering and not making sense, but Anthony brightens up and says excitedly, “Is Dean moving in with us? Like Rachael lives with Daddy?”
I have to stifle my gasp of shock and also control my urge to laugh. “No, baby, he's not moving in with us. We are just friends. he's here for dinner.”
“O
h, okay . . .” he says as he screws his little face up and looks back and forth between the two of us.
“Well, can I still show you my pictures?” he asks Dean, his expression tentative.
“Absolutely. It’s been my favorite part of tonight.” He takes the folder from Anthony’s hand and walks over to the couch with Anthony following him.
I decide to go to check on my mother and the food. “I bet. Kissing looks gross.” I hear Anthony return just as I turn the corner into the hallway that leads to my kitchen.
My mother is leaning on the counter drinking wine and staring out of the bay window over the sink.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask as I grab a glass and pour myself some wine.
“Yes, just giving you two some alone time.” She sounds distracted and slightly wistful.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I'm just glad you finally have something like this.” She touches my arm and gives me a sidelong glance. “And it makes me miss your father,” she finishes, sighing and tucking her chin into her neck.
“Oh, Mom. I know we never talk about it, but I know you miss him. I do, too.”
She looks at me sharply. “Do you?” Her face searches mine before I see her eyes soften with empathy and understanding.
“I know how angry Addie is with him, but you were older when he left, you know. I'm sorry I haven’t been there for you to talk about this. It’s hard to think about, honestly. It’s like half of my soul is gone, and I just don’t understand how or why,” she whispers while looking out of the window again. Her voice is laced with so much sadness I feel tears threaten my own eyes.
“Aren’t you even the slightest bit angry at him?” I ask her, because I don’t understand her lack of anger when she talks about him.
“I know everyone thinks I'm a fool, but I know your father. I know if he left us it wasn’t because he wanted to be rich and free more than he wanted to be with us. Something happened. I don’t know what, but I know, in my heart, he didn’t leave me. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. The love we had . . . have is something you only get once in your life.”
Her voice has risen in volume and her eyes have regained their focus. This is obviously something she has thought about for a long time.
“I know they are looking for him; I hope they find him because I think he will want to come home.”
“If they find him he will be arrested. He will be tried, and he will go to jail. The money was in your account and then it was gone. They have video of him going to the bank to withdraw it all a day before he left. They have the van rental, they have his trail until it disappeared near the border. There was nothing to indicate he did anything but run.” I recite this robotically. I know it like I know my own name.
She looks at me and shakes her head as if to clear fog from it. “I’m sorry, Dean is here for dinner. Let’s not bring all this up.”
