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“Wanna play?” Tristan asked, holding out a car for me.
“Sure,” I took it from him.
He sat on the floor, driving his car around. “Vroom! Vroom! Vroom!”
I stared listlessly at the floor as I half-heartedly pushed the toy car around.
“Row…Row!”
I looked up to find Tristan halted in his playing. “Like this, Row,” he raced his car around in a circle as far as his little arms could reach. “Vroom!”
I laughed, making the noise with him as I drove the car around the room.
“What are you doing?” Ivy appeared in the doorway.
“Playing cars,” Tristan answered. He laid his car to the side and grabbed one from the pile. “Here, you play too.”
Ivy took the car and sat on the floor to join us in play.
It tore me apart that Tristan didn’t know I was his mom.
In his eyes, and Ivy’s, I was though, in all the ways that counted.
???
“What are you still doing here?” Trace asked, stepping in the office as he brought a bottle of water to his lips. “I thought you already left.”
I shook my head. “I’m trying to organize your schedule for called-in appointments and make sure I’ve left time for emergency requests,” I pointed to the appointment book I was scribbling in.
“I don’t know what I did before you came along,” he admitted, jumping up on the other desk in the corner, his legs swinging. He leaned over, opening the top drawer, and grabbed a bag of ketchup-flavored chips. “Want some?” He asked, holding the bag out for me. I shook my head as my nose wrinkled in disgust. Ketchup flavored chips? Um, gross. “Suit yourself,” he shrugged, munching on one of the crunchy potato chips. “They’re delicious.”
We fell into an awkward silence, and I found myself opening my mouth and asking something I shouldn’t. “How’s Trent?” My eyes raised to briefly meet Trace’s before they fell to the paper in front of me once more.
“Honestly?” He asked. “I don’t know. He hasn’t talked to any of us since he went back to school. He’s ignoring our calls too. My mom was thinking about driving up to his school to check on him, but I talked her out of it. He just needs time,” he crunched on another chip. “He’ll come around.”
“No, he wont,” my voice was full of sadness. “Trust me,” I swiveled in the chair to force myself to look at Trace, “I accepted a long time ago that when Trenton found out the truth he’d hate me. I’ve had five years to prepare myself. You don’t need to try to make me feel better by spouting lies.”
“I wasn’t lying to you,” Trace set the chip bag aside, rubbing his salty fingers on his already dirty jeans. “He will come around, and he will forgive you, because he loves you. Right now, he’s hurt, and he can’t think straight.”
“He can’t possibly love me after what I did,” I whispered, pain clenching my insides. “What I did was horrible and I know he must hate me.”
Trace shook his head. “I’m sure he wishes he hated you, but he doesn’t.”
“How can you be so sure?” I questioned.
“Because, love does crazy things to you. I love Olivia more than I ever thought it was possible to love another person, and if she did something like this to me, I’d definitely be angry at first. Really angry. But I’d get over it, and I’d let her explain, and we’d move on from it. Love makes forgiveness easy.”
“Forgiveness is never easy,” I whispered, “especially when it isn’t deserved.”
Trace hopped down from the desk and patted my shoulder as he passed. “I’m sorry you think that way, but my little brother is going to prove you wrong. Definitely not today or tomorrow. One day, though.”
“What if one day doesn’t come soon enough?” I asked him.
“Then that’s Trent’s loss,” he shrugged, edging out the door. “Go home. It’s late.”
I nodded, closing the book and standing. I pushed the desk chair in and grabbed my purse. Trace flicked the office light off and closed the door. He locked it, and then we headed outside where he shut the garage doors and locked that as well.
As he started towards his car, he suddenly stopped and looked back at me. “Give him another week.”
