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“I’ll talk to her.”
“K.”
“Don’t interrupt us unless it’s an emergency.”
“Yes, sir.”
Making my way toward her room, I rope in all my apprehension and knock on her door.
“Hey,” I hear her say when I poke my head in. She’s sitting on the side of her bed, crumbling a tissue in her hand and blotting her eyes.
I kneel down in front of her and grab her hands holding them between mine. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“It’s not fine. Everything’s fucked.”
“I know,” she says, a tear cresting on her cheek before falling, “we got too messy.”
“I don’t want to live like this anymore.”
“Me neither.” She slides a hand down my jaw. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. You did everything right. From the minute you stepped up to my door. You’re right. I gave you hell and not enough of what you deserved. But I do respect you, Troy, and I trust you, for whatever it’s worth.”
“It’s worth a lot,” I say, trying my best to keep my shit together.
“He knows we’re not okay. He asks me every day what’s going on, and I don’t know what to tell him.”
“He knows about us.”
“I know,” she says softly. “I just keep avoiding his questions.”
“It’s time to stop. We’ll tell him together that sometimes grown-ups fight and don’t always know how to fix it. But if they’re family, they find a way to work it out. And we will.”
She nods, looking more forlorn than she did when I walked into the room.
“Troy, I don’t ever want him to lose you because of me.”
“He won’t. I just needed to step back, for me.”
She worries her bottom lip and nods.
“We apologize and move on. If we’re okay, he’s okay.”
“Right.” She nods. “You’re right.”
“It just feels shitty now because we got knocked out of sorts. We’ll fix it.”
“Okay,” she straightens, and exhales a stressed breath.
“Okay.”
I stand and look down at her, and she tugs at my hand, sliding her fingers between mine. “I’ve always credited myself with having it together, having it under control.” Her face crumbles. “I’m not feeling so together anymore.”
“You and me both. It’s just a rough time. It’ll pass. Let’s just concentrate on him for the moment, okay?” I pull my hand away from hers and see the sting in her eyes. Touching her right now means playing with more fire and I refuse to let my son burn again. He’s suffered enough. And not just now. He’s paid for years of our back and forth, our mistakes.
“Yes. Of course.”
“Okay. He got in trouble today at school?”
