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“Giovanni’s is the best thing about this place,” Corey mumbled, seemingly unaware of the pain that flitted across Ryan’s face.
It was a stark reminder that Corey didn’t want to live here, even if he was enjoying playing football. He probably still wanted to go back to live at his mom’s and be with his friends he’d had since childhood.
We fell silent for a few uncomfortable beats. I wanted to reach over and pat Ryan’s hand, but I didn’t. Not with Corey watching our every move.
“It’s legendary around here. Everyone visits when they come back to town.” Ryan gave me a pointed look, and I laughed.
I held my free hand up. “I guess I’m not as big a pizza fan as I thought. I know people love it, though.”
“You should try the subs. They make the bread from scratch,” Ryan said to me.
I couldn’t keep up with the rate Corey was downing the pizza. When I reached for a second slice, it was the last one.
“I’m stuffed. You can have it,” Ryan said.
I put the last slice on my plate and refilled my water from the pitcher.
Corey wiped his hands on the napkin, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder. “Can I play some games?”
Ryan nodded and watched him head over to the arcade area where several teen boys and a few younger kids were playing.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about what he said,” I said before taking a small bite of pizza.
“He makes comments like that every once in a while. Right when I think he’s settling in, it brings everything back.” Ryan rolled his shoulders back.
Those comments made him feel insecure.
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” I’d never seen it from the perspective of the parent who was trying to hold on to a child.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here.” His expression was filled with pain. He lifted his hat and ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end before pulling the cap down again. Then he leaned back in his seat, draping his arm over the back of the booth opposite me.
“I’m not sure I’m the best one to give advice, but I don’t think any parent knows what they’re doing all of the time.” I had zero experience with parents striving to do better, or even wanting their children in their life.
I was unsure of my footing. It felt similar to the sensation of walking on soft sand.
“One step forward, two steps back. It’s hard to compete with his mother or the home he’s had his entire life, and I’m not even sure I should. Maybe he needs to be with her.”
I shook my head. “She sent him here.”
He shifted, laying his elbows on the table, and leaned closer to me. “Why do you think she did that?”
I flushed slightly, knowing he was drawing on my experience. “She did it for a reason. Either she feels like you can reach him better, or maybe”—I looked to ensure Corey was engrossed in an arcade game— “she doesn’t want to try.”
He sighed. “I keep telling myself that. It’s hard not to let it get to me, though.”
“That’s understandable.” I traced the lip of the water glass with my finger. I admired him for what he was going through. It wasn’t easy, and some dads might have just sent him back or let him do whatever he wanted. But Ryan was really trying with him. Wanting him to fit in, find some friends, have a purpose.
“You see yourself in him.” I wasn’t just talking about looks because Corey was a mix of both him and his mother.
“My parents were different. They had all these impossible expectations, and I knew, even at twelve, I’d never meet them, so why bother trying.”
I smiled. He sounded like a petulant teenager, but I knew what he was saying. His parents tried to mold him into something he wasn’t.
“I want Corey to be who he was meant to be. I want to give him the time and space to explore what that could be.”
His words stunned me for a second. It was a beautiful sentiment. “That’s admirable.”
“I’m just doing my best. Muddling through and hoping I trip upon something helpful.”
