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Titus decided on burgers for dinner, so we went to his favorite place in Jackson’s Ridge, Burger Buffet. “I love it here, Mom!”
“What’s not to love about a place that lets you make your own burgers with hundreds of toppings?”
The sound of his happy laugh never failed to brighten my day, to lighten the load on my shoulders. “Bacon?”
“No more than two slices,” I answered in my best don’t argue with me I’m your mother tone. It was a difficult line to tow, keeping your child happy without indulging them in every little whim. “You don’t want a bellyache, do you?”
Rounded violet eyes stared up at me and Titus shook his head vigorously. “No way. That was bad last time.”
Sometimes though, you had to let the kid indulge and hope the learned an important lesson for the future. “Okay, then. Two slices. What else?”
“Cheese and chili and those sugary onions that Ryan always gets.” Titus’ eyes widened in shock and he covered his mouth with a gasp. “I mean, that Ryan likes.”
I tossed my head back and laughed. Ryan and Titus were two peas on a burger-loving pod. They were both terrible at keeping secrets, as if I didn’t know they often detoured from the bus stop after school to eat at Burger Buffet. “Don’t you know that you can’t keep secrets from your mother?”
Titus opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. “Mom,” he sighed. “It’s not a secret, well it is, but it’s a guys’ secret. Not a lie.” He looked up at me, heart in his eyes. “Are we in trouble?”
“I’ll have to think about that,” I told him as we progressed down the menu of burger options. I made him squirm until after we placed our orders and hit him with my best ‘mom stare’.
“You’re mad,” he said on a huff.
I smiled. “Yes, Titus, I am mad. I’m upset that neither of you thought to bring me a burger. I love burgers.”
As the words registered, his bony little shoulders relaxed and he fell back against the fake leather booth seat. “Mom,” he whined. “You scared me.”
“Good. That’s what happens to little boys who don’t bring burgers for their burger loving mothers.”
“Sorry, Mom.”
“It’s okay, I forgive you. Now, tell me about your day.” I listened closely with a smile as Titus gave me a minute-by-minute rundown of his day.
“Is it weird that Ryan is gonna be my dad for the fishing trip?”
Thankfully Titus waited until after the food arrived at the table to ask the question, because a mouth full of steak fries gave me time to figure out how to answer. “Not at all. Ryan’s your friend and your father isn’t around. Should you miss out on the fishing trip because your biological father isn’t in the picture?” It broke my heart to think of how cruel kids could be to any person or situation that was different from their own.
Titus gave my question careful thought and shook his head. “No.”
“There are plenty of kids at your school who will go on the fishing trip with stepdads, boyfriends, uncles and grandfathers. Is that weird?”
“No,” he sighed and picked up his burger, cut into quarters so he could eat it like a big boy. Aside from physical differences, Titus looked so much like Ryan when he bit into the burger that any stranger on the street would have no problem believing they were father and son. “Thanks, Mom.”
“No problem. You should never feel weird or ashamed of your relationship with Ryan. Plenty of fathers aren’t around, but other men step into that role because they want to, because they love you enough to be there for you, and sometimes that’s even better.”
“It is?” He looked so adorable with ketchup smeared on his cheek that I didn’t have the heart to tell him not to talk with his mouth full.
“It is. Ryan is here because he chooses to be, not because he has to be. He thinks you’re so great that he wants to be around you, and he’s going fishing with you so he must really love you.”
Titus giggled. “I’m gonna show him how to fish.”
“Of course you are, because you are a good friend.”
“I am,” he smiled proudly and dramatically dunked his fry into a mound of ketchup and mustard blend before shoving it into his mouth.
And my boy wasn’t hurting in the confidence department. “How’s your burger?”
“Good,” he answered with an excited grin. “And messy.” The smile on his face said that he enjoyed the messy part just as much as the eating part. “Mom, where is my real dad?”
“Your biological father?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Him.”
“Well we dated when we were younger and I thought we loved each other, but he missed his family back home in Canada and had to leave.” I considered it progress that it no longer hurt to recount the story, not even to the person most affected by that decision.
