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I’m on cloud nine when I pick Caleb up for dinner. I decided I needed to take him on a mother-son date tonight. Mom got him ready, and when I pull into the drive, he comes out of the house, clutching a handful of wildflowers he proudly presents to me.
I let him pick where we go to eat, and not surprisingly, he chooses the pizzeria.
We select our slices and take a seat in front of the window that overlooks Main Street. People are milling around on foot, walking to dinner or enjoying a friendly game of miniature golf at the Fantasy Golf and Arcade Room across the street.
“Can we play after we eat?” Caleb asks around a mouthful of pizza.
“Sure. I think we can squeeze in a game or two.”
“Yay!”
“I wanted to talk to you one-on-one, bud.”
“Okay. What do you want to talk about?” he asks.
“You know how much I like my job, working for Hilton and Sara-Beth, and they really like having the help. So much so that, today, Sara-Beth offered you and me a cabin of our own to stay in. It’s a few minutes from the office, the river is in the backyard, and you can walk downtown from it. What do you think?”
He blinks up at me and wrinkles his forehead as he absorbs the information.
“Why do we need a house? You said we were only staying for the summer,” he asks.
“I know I did, and I didn’t mean to lie to you. I honestly had no idea what would happen once we got here. I just knew we had to leave for me to figure things out.”
“So, now, we’re just going to live here all the time?” he asks.
“Not if you don’t want to.”
“But you want to, don’t you?” he asks.
“I think I do. I like my job and my friends here. I know Granna loves having us close, and she isn’t getting any younger,” I explain.
“And you really like Graham,” he points out.
“There’s that too,” I agree.
“What about Dad?” he asks, and my heart breaks a little more when I see the pain and uncertainty cross my son’s face.
“Dad is staying in Illinois.”
“So, we aren’t ever going to see him again?” he asks.
I move to him and sit beside him. “Of course you’ll see him again. He’s your father, and he always will be. Once the divorce is final, we’ll hammer out a schedule, so you can spend time with him too.”
“Divorce? You never said anything about divorce!”
“I’m telling you now. I know you were hoping we would work things out like before, but some things just can’t be worked out,” I explain.
“Did you even try?”
“It’s complicated, but I promise that we didn’t make this decision lightly,” I explain.
“What about school and my friends?” he asks.
“We’ll enroll you in Balsam Ridge Middle School. It’s where I went to school when I was your age. You’ll make lots of new friends. I can even talk to them about letting you try out for the soccer team even though they already have a roster. I bet Coach Pittman from your other school would write a recommendation,” I tell him.
He turns his eyes to me. “I don’t want new friends or a new school.”
“Then, we’ll go back, and I can find a job in Chicago.”
“Dad will support us,” he insists.
“Buddy, Dad has a new girlfriend, and they are going to have a baby together.”
His eyes go round. “What?”
I take a deep breath. It’s time to tell my son the whole truth about why we left. He knew his father and I were fighting, and he knew that his dad moved out, but we’d fought before, and everything worked out. I know, in his mind, he thought it might happen again.
“Do you remember Ivy from your dad’s office?”
He nods.
“Well, she and your father became close and …”
“And he cheated on you and made a baby with her?” he asks, his little face turning red.
“Something like that,” I whisper.
He jumps to his feet. “I don’t want him to have a baby with her,” he yells.
“I wasn’t thrilled either, but it’s not something we can stop,” I explain.
“Is that why we came here?”
I nod.
“You said Dad did a bad thing and you needed time apart. I thought he yelled at you or stayed out late or something.”
“It was a bit more serious than I let on,” I admit.
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“Because I didn’t want you to worry about this. It’s a lot and—”
“I’m not a baby, Mom,” he insists.
“No, you’re not. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about everything, but, Caleb, you’ll always be my baby, and it’s my job to protect you.”
Tears threaten to stream down his face, and I can see him trying to hold them back and be strong.
I pat his seat. “Please sit down,” I beckon.
He sits back in front of his plate but pushes it aside.
“I don’t expect you to understand. I had to get away from there. From everyone and everything because I was never going to heal there. Every person I ran into and every place I entered just threw it in my face. I wasn’t enough. And Ivy bouncing around with her baby bump and happy glow was killing me,” I confess.
“You should have told me.”
“I know. But you’re twelve, and it’s not your job to worry about my happiness.”
“Yes, it is. You’re my mom. Don’t you worry about my happiness?” he asks.
“Of course I do. Every day.”
“Well, the same goes for me. I care if you’re sad,” he says.
And now, I feel like an ass.
I ruffle his hair. “You know, I forget how grown up you are sometimes. I promise to work on that.”
“Can we get my stuff from my old room, or do I have to take Uncle Gene’s funiture?” he asks.
“I think we can arrange to have your own things sent down.”
He nods.
“You want to give this a shot with me?” I ask.
He taps his fingers on the table like he’s thinking hard.
“I guess so,” he decides.
“You want to go take a look at it?” I ask, excited to show him the place.
He reaches forward, grabs his second slice of pizza, and takes a bite.
“After I beat you at mini-golf,” he says around his mouthful.
“Deal.”
