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“Colton, I mean, yeah, it sounds fun, but…don’t you need to go to work?” I ask.
I watch as Colton’s jovial expression slips, but just as quickly it’s back, a big easy smile that feels as fake and stupid as this vacation idea.
“I think you should call your parents, tell them what’s going on so they can…”
“What? So they can what? They can’t magically change DNA, Emily.”
I shake my head.
“No, but they can be here for you and help you figure out what to do next. They love you, Colton.”
He grits his teeth then storms out of the room, his feet stomping up the stairs as he goes.
“Whas wrong?” Teddy asks. “Is daddy mad?”
I smile at Teddy, crouching down so we’re eye to eye. “He’s mad at me, little guy. Not you.”
Teddy’s worried eyes look in the direction his dad went for a few more seconds before focusing back on his food.
That’s when I decide to make a tough choice. Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I scroll through my contacts, find the number I logged away months ago, and tap call.
***
Colton leaves for work with a scowl on his face, but at least he stops in the kitchen to give his son a kiss before he goes.
Teddy finishes his breakfast then races back to his fort, diving under and giggling to himself in a way that soothes my soul.
It’s Tuesday, and on Tuesdays we usually do some kind of arts and crafts project, so after we’ve picked up Teddy’s fort and gotten him changed for the day, we go to the dollar store and buy finger paints. Then we head back to the house and paint in the grass in the back yard. I paint a below-average tree and tire swing, while Teddy paints what he calls a Cookie Monster sandwich, which is a mess of blue and brown and yellow blobs smooshed all over the page. I make sure both images get prominent placement on the fridge.
When Colton gets home after work, he retreats into his office and shuts the door, only coming out to briefly eat dinner with us.
So, I wrap up the evening with Teddy, giving him a bath and helping him into his jammies, before we read together and he goes to sleep.
Then, I crawl into my bed and wait.
It’s after ten when the doorbell rings, and I purposefully don’t get out of bed to go answer it. Instead, I stay in my room, looking down into the living room through my cracked-open door.
Colton takes the stairs quickly, mumbling to himself about who would ring a doorbell this late at night. I see the way his body goes rigid when he sees who is standing outside his home.
“God, Colton, I can’t believe you didn’t call us the second that bitch left your house.”
Sharon Palmer sweeps into the entry and wraps her arms around her son, then she pulls back and places her hands on either side of his face, whispering words of encouragement I’m sure a mother like her would provide.
I close the door all the way and return to my bed, giving Colton and his mom some privacy and thinking about my own mother, how she might handle a situation like this.
If I called Loni Renee Burns Schwartz to tell her I was in trouble, I’m fairly sure she’d laugh at me through the phone.
“Well, honey, that’s what happens sometimes. That’s why I always say…” and then she’d insert some horrible perspective she has on life.
Like when I was in high school and the boy who was supposed to take me to junior prom stood me up.
“Well, honey, that’s what happens sometimes,” my mother said. “That’s why I always say you’re only as good as the goods you give.”
My mother…my mother straight-up told me the boy stood me up because my sex wasn’t good enough for my 16-year-old date. I was mortified, though not surprised. Ella had left the year before to go to Hollywood with her older, creepy boyfriend, and when I asked her why she would let Ella move away with a guy like Kyle, she gave me another one of her lines.
“Well, honey, that’s what happens sometimes. That’s why I always say how important it is to find the good ones when you’re young, so you can ride ’em hard and take anything and everything they’ve got.”
She was a class act, my mother, and I’m eternally thankful that she found some guy and moved across the country so I’m not faced with her horrible advice and leech-like tendencies anymore.
