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The blue comes from his mother.
“It’s nice to meet you both.”
“Likewise, and breakfast is ready.” Olivia nods. “I just need to finish up some more tortillas.”
“Can I help with anything?”
“No, no, hun. Come to the table when you’re ready.” She smiles, disappearing into the kitchen.
Her husband steps in to hug his son, mentioning something that I don’t catch, and I run my hands over my leggings, turning to grab Bailey for an excuse to do something.
Tobias, of course, doesn’t release the car seat, but tells his dad we’ll be right in and leads me over to the living room corner, where he gently sets her seat down.
“I didn’t want her grilling me and—”
“Shh,” I cut him off, digging into the diaper bag for the baby monitors, and placing one on the small table beside Bailey. “I don’t want to sound like we’re being gossipy.”
“My mom loves gossip, just ask her.”
I grin, and with one to match, he jerks his head toward the door his mother passed through. Following behind him, we ease into the next room, and I choose a seat across from him on the picnic-style table.
In the center of it sits bowls of fresh cut onion, cilantro, and a few different kinds of salsa. His dad lowers the proteins in front of us while his mom brings a container full of warm tortillas.
“I hope you like breakfast burritos.” She smiles.
“I do, thank you.”
Everyone gets settled, and served and we begin to eat, Tobias and his parents catching up on things they’ve missed.
They laugh about something that happened over their last visit and his mom tells him about the projects his dad has going at home as well as sharing updates about his nephew.
Tobias eats up every minute of it, smiling and asking questions as they pop into his head while I enjoy the food in front of me.
“You know your brother will be finishing up his residency this winter, isn’t that exciting?” his mom says, catching my attention.
“Wow, that’s amazing.”
Tobias’s eyes snap up to mine, and his elbows come up on the table as he refocuses on his plate.
“Isn’t it?” Olivia beams, reaching for the bowl of fried potatoes. “Tobias, did you hear me?”
“Yeah, Mom. I heard. Badass.”
Olivia’s eyes seem to narrow. “So, when do you think you’ll—”
“Honey.” His dad gently interjects.
“I was only going to ask when he thinks it’ll be time to stop playing a child’s game and take school seriously.”
My breath lodges in my throat at her breezy tone. She spoke as if it’s the most innocent question.
As if it’s not a complete and total insult to the man across from me, who refuses to look up and engage in the conversation, who must have sensed where it was going the moment his brother was mentioned.
I’m pretty sure my eyes are bugging out of my head.
“I mean you don’t even come see us, you’re so busy jumping from city to city, missing class while you’re at it, and for what? To throw a ball around, pick fights with people like in high school?” She shakes her head. “If your brother hadn’t called me to tell me you were going to be in town, I probably wouldn’t have seen you until Christmas, if you even came down. I know you only made the trip this past year because you wanted to meet your nephew.”
“I’ll come for Christmas, Mom.” He takes a drink, his head still hung.
And then the worst thing happens. Olivia turns to me.
“Meyer.” Tobias tenses as I do. “You understand the importance of school, right? You’re a student as well?”
I nod, wishing she’d stop talking
“Meyer holds a 4.0, has since freshman year,” Tobias shares, his eyes popping up to mine briefly, happy to shift the conversation away from himself.
But I think it only fuels his mother’s point further.
Her hands lift into the air, and he gives a curt nod. “Of course, you do, because you know what it takes to be successful in life. Hard work and dedication.” She looks to Tobias. “Your brother knew that too. He worked hard and got into medical school. You saw the time he put into his studies, and you would think you’d learn something from witnessing that.”
“Mom, please.”
“Tobias, I’m serious, honey.” What’s sad is her tone holds true concern. “We didn’t do all we could to make sure you could go to college—”
“You’re right, Mom,” he cuts her off with a firm, but respectful, tone. “You didn’t. If you remember right, I worked it out with the help of someone who actually believed in me.”
The baby monitor beeps, and before I can even attempt to stand, Tobias does. Since his need for an escape is greater, I remain seated, offering him a tight grin when I really want to glare.
He wastes no time, stomping away, but he lets it all go as he reaches Bailey, his voice nothing but tender and patient through the monitor. “I’ve got you, baby girl.”
