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The only kid I’ve ever been really close to—the son I never had. The son who abandoned me, or the son I abandoned when I couldn’t handle the world.
“You want to tell me where you were?” Wayne asked suddenly.
Now I just sound like my own grumpy old man.
Cindy reappeared with a turkey sandwich, its plate piled high with potato chips. In her other hand, she held a bottle of beer.
“Sit down, Michael,” she ordered.
Her voice simmered with motherly love.
Michael did as he was told. He sat in the opposite chair and grabbed the beer and the plate and looked at them both with huge, empty eyes.
Cindy watched him from the side, her hands clasped so tight it turned her knuckles white.
“Thanks, Mom,” Michael finally mustered, as though he had long since forgotten the concept of gratefulness. He then took a big bite of the turkey sandwich.
Cindy sat again next to Wayne, watching her son, captivated. Wayne could have probably written down all her thoughts.
Why is my son so thin?
Where has he been?
What’s happened to him?
Does he hate me? Is that why he left?
Does he hate his father?
Does he hate Wayne?
Half-way through the sandwich, Michael placed the plate on the coffee table, took a large swig of beer, and then said, “You know, I really did have a long journey today, Mom. Wayne. Do you mind if I head up to bed?”
Cindy looked anxious. Wayne thought she might flutter up out of her chair.
“Of course, honey. I put clean sheets on your bed. There are fresh towels on the chair by the window. Your sister’s off the island for the week.”
“She still lives at home?” Michael asked, his eyebrow arched.
“She doesn’t, no,” Cindy said. “She lives with a few girlfriends above the fudge shop.”
Michael looked disappointed, although Wayne couldn’t guess if it was because his sister no longer lived there, or because he couldn’t make fun of her because she still did.
“Good night,” Michael said. He kept his beer in-hand as he walked toward the door. “Thanks again for the food. See you in the morning.”
Silence hung between Wayne and Cindy after that. Wayne cleared his throat, hunting for the right words to say.
“I always wondered what I would say to him when I saw him again,” Cindy breathed. “I thought I would smack him across the face for making me worry so much. I thought I would scream at him. I thought maybe I would fall on the ground sobbing. But instead, I just made him a sandwich as if nothing had happened. I probably sounded like the biggest idiot on the planet.” Her chin twitched. “I can’t help but think of what Tara might have done in the same situation.”
Wayne’s heart stopped beating.
“What would she have done?”
“She would have just wrapped her arms around him and held him close and asked him to tell her about each and every one of his adventures. She would have called them adventures, rather than... whatever it is I want to call them. And he would have opened up to her, you know? He would have told her every single bit of his journey, every weird nook and cranny along the way. And she would have laughed, and asked all the right questions, and drank alongside him. Maybe they would have stayed up till dawn, with so much to say to each other that they wouldn’t have bothered to sleep.”
Wayne felt an ache in his heart—one of regret.
“Come on, Wayne. You know it’s true,” Cindy blared. “You know that she’s the mother he always wanted. He loved her much more than he loved me.”
“No, Cindy. It’s not true,” Wayne stated, his words harsh. “You can blame his leaving on Tara, on me, on everything that happened, but in truth? He was always just a wayward kid. He always wanted to make his mark on the world. And I guess it’s up to us now to be patient. To wait for him to tell us what happened and what went wrong and how we can help. Just to be there for him. Don’t you think?”
Cindy bit hard on the inside of her cheek. She finally nodded, wordless.
