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“Lennon wanted his favorite,” Mom says, forcing a smile on her face.
She doesn’t mean it, but her simple statement brings more pain. I have no idea what Lennon’s favorites are. Christ, my son is seven years old, and I don’t know what his favorite food is or what he watches on television. I don’t even know what he likes to do when he’s playing outside. I didn’t get to see him grow, learn to walk, say his first words…
I’m a stranger to him.
I force my legs to move as I walk toward them. It’s so damn hard that I don’t think I can explain it. My legs feel shaky. Hell, my knees threaten to buckle. Lennon might only be seven, but right now, he’s terrifying. I walk around the island. I’m being an asshole. I could walk close to Mom, but she would expect a hug or a kiss, and I’m barely holding on right now. She hurt me.They all hurt me.I ignore that small voice that reminds me that I did my share of hurting others. I know I did.The thing is, even when it hurt people I loved—even when it gutted me— I was at least honest.
And my honesty made my son a stranger…
“What are you making?” I ask Lennon directly, swallowing down the emotion in my voice.
“Boo-berry pancakes,” he says. His voice is soft—showing none of the exuberance I see from him when he’s with the rest of my family—but then, I’ve never encouraged him to be like that with me.
Shit, I’ve got a lot to make up for.
“Those are my favorite,” I tell him, leaning on the bar so Lennon is more at eye level. I don’t know if that’s the right thing to do or not. I’m just guessing here and I feel like I’m in way over my head.
“It is?” he asks, studying me.
I look at his eyes. I never realized it before. They’re brown like mine, but they have bits of green in them, too—like Katie’s.
A little bit of both of us…
“It is,” I answer, scuffing my hand against the stubble on my chin as I try to get control of my thoughts. “Especially if I have whipped cream.”
“We have some! Nanny always gets me some at the yellow store.”
“Yellow store?” I repeat, mostly asking Mom because I’m lost.
“Walmart,” she laughs. “He likes the bright yellow logo.”
“Yellow is my favorite color. Do you have a favorite color?”
“Well, I really like yellow, too.”
“You do?”
“Yep, I really do.”
“That’s neat. Nanny, did you hear that?”
“I did. I could have sworn Jake liked the color green,” Mom answers, sending me a smirk and knowing look.
“Green’s cool too. Dinosaurs are green,” I point out.
“I know. I love dinosaurs.”
“Me too!”
“I know a place where you can see dinosaurs move and even ride on the back of one.”
Lennon’s eyes go round. “For real?”
“Yep. I’ve been wanting to go, but I don’t want to go alone.”
“Dinosaurs can be scary,” Lennon reasons, sounding very adult.
“They can. I’ve been looking for a friend to go with me. Would you like to go with me sometime?”
