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Despite his words, I didn’t hear the arrogance in my son’s voice the way that his teachers or peers might. I didn’t think that he believed he was better than anyone else. He sounded more like he was repeating somethingsomeoneelsehad said about him.
“You’re right, Rex. You are wise beyond your years, so let me tell you what your teacher said in our meeting earlier.”
“Okay. I like Mrs. Tupper,” he assured me. “She’s nice. Very patient.”
“Well, honey, your teacher mentioned that you’ve been being a little disrespectful to some of your classmates who aren’t as…wiseas you.”
“What do you mean?” he wondered.
“Yes, Zoe. What do you mean?” Desmond seconded. “Explain this to Rex.”
“I mean that… okay… when one of your classmates doesn’t know the answer to a question, but you do… you tend to be a little…” Fuck, how did I explain to my six-year-old that he was being mean? “You’re not very nice about it.”
Rex blinked a few times and I thought that maybe he understood. But then he scrunched up his face and scowled. I winced. He was the spitting image of Desmond when he did that.
“Well, maybe they should have studied harder,” Rex concluded. “Right, Dad?”
Desmond’s mouth curled into a smirk. “Exactly right, son.”
“Rex, I don’t think you understand.”
“Are you saying that it’s bad to be smart?” Rex asked. He raised an eyebrow, but not like he was challenging me. More like he was just curious.
“Of course not.”
“It sounds like that’s what she’s saying, doesn’t it, son?” Desmond said. His eyebrow was raised too.
“Maybe a little.”
“Well, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s not bad to be smart. It’s really great, actually. And you should totally be proud of how smart you are, Rex,” I stammered. “But making other people feel bad because they’re not as smart as you is…”
Desmond sighs. “Zoe, I think I know what this is really about.”
I stopped in my tracks and stared at him.
“This isn’t about Rex, this is about you,” he explained. “You’re insecure about your own intelligence and you’re taking it out on our son. Look, I know you’re dreading the day that you’re incapable of helping Rex with his homework or him asking you a question that’s just beyond you…”
I felt like I might explode. The room spun. Was I crazy? Was I being ridiculous for wanting my son to be liked? Or at least not to walk around acting like he’s better than everyone else?
Desmond’s doorbell rang and he quickly took off his apron and smoothed his hair. “That’s Rachelle,” he announced. “Rex, give your mother a hug and she’ll be on her way. You may join us after you finish your homework.”
“We’re not done discussing this,” I told Desmond.
“Yes, we are. My guest is here,” Desmond announced. “Rex, say good night.”
“Okay, Dad,” Rex said, turning to me with a smile. Rex threw his arms around me and hugged me tightly. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, baby,” I told him, hugging him back just as tightly. “I’ll see you on Friday, right?”
“Yes, I’ll see you on Friday,” he said. “Love you.”
With that, I watched as he scampered back into his room. When I turned around, I was face-to-face with a gorgeous redhead in a short sundress. Rachelle, obviously. And damn, she couldn’t have been more than twenty years old.
“Rachelle, this is my ex-wife, Zoe. She was just leaving,” Desmond said, shepherding the redhead towards the kitchen island where two glasses of wine waited for them.
Rachelle waved at me and offered a small, uncomfortable smile and I stood there, staring at her.
“She wasjust leaving,” Desmond repeated, shooting me alook.
