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“Daddy!” My little boy runs out of the front door as soon as I vacate my car once I pull into my mother’s driveway.
“Hey, bud.” He slams into my legs, squeezing his tiny arms around me. I ruffle his dark hair, the hue he inherited from his mother, and hope that’s the only thing he gets from her. “How was your day with Grandma?”
“It was fun! We went to the park, and I practiced kicking the soccer ball like you told me to.”
“Nice. Did you score any goals?” I ask him as I lead him back up the path to my mother’s front door. Her little house in the old neighborhood in L.A. holds many memories for me—a time when my mom was a single mother just trying to make ends meet and provide for us, and a time when I thought the reason my father abandoned us was because he didn’t love me or want me anymore.
I swear I will do everything in my power to make sure my son never feels that way about Monica.
“I did. Grandma tried to block it, but I was too fast for her.”
Chuckling, I walk through the worn front door as it squeaks, making a note to come by and tighten the hinges on it this weekend. “You are the fastest boy I know.”
“The kid never stops moving,” my mother says, coming around the corner from the kitchen to greet us, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her dirty-blond hair, which was once the same hue as mine, has more gray in it now than blond, and her face shows laugh lines and years of hard work. But she’s also the most beautiful and important woman in my life, and I don’t take her help or presence for granted for one second.
I plant a kiss on her cheek as I move to meet her. “How was work?” she asks.
“Busy. The couple I met with today is actually compromising, so that makes my job a hell of a lot easier.”
“Good to hear.” She looks down at my son. “Go get your bag so your daddy can take you home, young man.” Oliver rushes off, giving us a chance to talk alone. “You ready for next week?”
“No, but I know me not being ready won’t change the fact that it’s happening. I don’t know what I would do without you, Mom.” Pulling her into my arms, I hold on to the only woman I know I can count on.
“Ethan, you’ve done more for me by just moving back here. I get to be in Oliver’s life more, and I get to see you every day.” She peers up at me. “You boys are my world. And Oliver starting kindergarten is going to be a wonderful new chapter for you both.”
“The past few years have been rocky, Mom, but I finally feel like we’re on solid ground. Oliver starts school next week, soccer a few weeks after that, and I’m finally settling into my job. We’re getting a routine down and I feel like I made the right decision leaving San Diego.”
“This was a good move for you, son.”
“I know. I’m seeing that now.”
“So, the office is running smoothly?”
I nod, moving around her to get a glass of water from the fridge. “My assistant is competent, which definitely helps. Gary, the lawyer that came with me, knows his stuff, so I don’t feel like I have to babysit him. And the location can’t be beat.”
“The little ice cream shop in the complex sure is tasty too.”
I glance over at her after I shut the door. “Please tell me Oliver didn’t have ice cream before dinner.”
“Not today,” she answers with a grin on her face.
I roll my eyes at her. “You know he gets crazy when he has too much sugar.”
“I know. But he’s my grandson and I will spoil him as I see fit.” She pats my shoulder as she passes me.
“Just make sure he’s eating a fruit or vegetable in there too, okay?”
“You act like this is my first rodeo raising a kid, young man. You turned out okay, if I do say so myself, and I know for a fact that you went through a period of time where all you survived on were Bagel Bites and Totino’s Pizza Rolls.”
Before I can reply, Oliver shouts as he runs up to us with his backpack on his shoulders. “I’m ready, Daddy!”
“Saved by the kid,” I mutter out of the corner of my mouth to my mother, which causes her to laugh. “All right, bud, let’s go. Are you ready to make pizza at home?”
“Yes!”
“Then let’s do it.” I lean over and plant another kiss on my mother’s cheek. “We’ll see you in the morning, Mom.”
“Looking forward to it.”
I lead Oliver back out to the car and head for our house, a newer build in a housing tract I was able to buy at an incredible price since the previous owners were foreclosed on.
When I was talking to my mother about how I was going to manage everything when Oliver started school this year, she convinced me to move closer to her so she could help me, although the last thing I wanted to do was have to depend on her. Like I said before, she busted her ass to raise me on her own. She paid her dues. But she also missed out on a lot of Oliver’s first years since we lived a considerable distance away, and I was too busy trying to keep my marriage alive to think about visiting more often.
So after she insisted she wanted us around, I sold our house, convinced my firm to let me start my own office, and packed the two of us up and started our new adventure, just my son and me. My mom knew someone on the board of a charter school near my house and was able to get Oliver into their program for kindergarten, which starts next week, earlier than most of the public schools in the area. Nick, my buddy from college who is now a realtor, was able to find me an office and a house in just a few short months. And once everything was closed on, Oliver and I made the move from San Diego to Los Angeles a few weeks ago.
But I don’t care. I just want him to have the best, to have better than I did, even though I wouldn’t trade my childhood for a second and I don’t dare knock how hard my mother worked to give me all she could. But I don’t want him to feel like he’s missing out on anything just because his mom isn’t around, and I know there will come a point in time where he will question that.
Pulling up to our house, I feel satisfied with where I am now. I’m no longer concerned about making Monica happy. Every once in a while, Oliver will ask where his mom is, but he was only two when she took off, so he doesn’t really remember her. After the night she asked me for a divorce, she only came back to the house once to collect her things. I tried to reason with her, offered to go to counseling or compromise on what she wanted, but she made her choice, so I vowed to protect my son from feeling like less than for the rest of his life.
