Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.
Chelsea studied the words, stiff and formal on the page, disconnected from the emotions and complexities they demanded. She slid the document back into the legal envelope, attempting the same art of detachment. Today was a day for celebrating. It was Hancock’s birthday.
She thought back to the first time she’d held her son, with Sawyer by her side. She had never felt so accomplished, so full of hope. Today when she looked at Hancock, she felt the same. Only different. Chelsea felt as though she had reached the peak of a mountain, only to discover she had merely been climbing the foothills. There was a long way to go before she’d be looking down from a mountaintop.
Time to conqueror that fear of heights.
Chelsea crept upstairs with a confetti cupcake covered by a spiral of candles. Thirteen, to be exact. She and Emily woke Hancock with the birthday song and blowing out of candles per the annual tradition. It was a family rule that on birthdays, dessert always came first. After a sweet appetizer, she and the kids walked to Hancock’s favorite breakfast spot, leaving Manny and Katrina to hold down the fort, so they could enjoy a full day of celebration.
In previous years Hancock’s birthdays had been full of over-the-top festivities. For his tenth birthday, Sawyer rented a jet and flew Hancock and his friends to opening day at Yankee Stadium before ending the night riding roller coasters on Coney Island. Sawyer was the king of extravagant surprises, but today Chelsea had one of her own in the works, albeit far humbler.
It was the perfect day to be outside. The spring air was just on the chilly side of perfect, and the birds seemed to be singing about it. The trio rented a horse-drawn carriage and told the driver to take his time. They moseyed through downtown San Antonio until they reached the Alamo.
Hancock loved the mission. Colonel Travis. Bowie. Crockett. Flashing sabres and blasting cannons—he loved every minute. Emily, on the other hand, got hungry. Chelsea suggested the Pig Stand.
It was another San Antonio icon, a good old-fashioned American establishment that had been wooing local diners with its greasy-spoon appeal and kitschy decor since the 1920s. In the summers, the parking lot of the Pig Stand doubled as a doo-wop era dance floor in the evenings, but on this sunny spring day Chelsea entered the diner and enjoyed jukebox rock’n’roll.
Sara, Tony, and Bo were waiting for them at a vinyl-covered table complete with gifts and balloons. After a dozen hugs and “happy birthdays,” Bo gave Hancock a set of tools and a navy leather Bible with his name on it. Sara and Tony gave him a special-edition set of the original Star Wars trilogy. Next came a round of “pig sandwiches” so tender and juicy they should have been served with bibs.
After lunch, Chelsea and the kids piled into Sara and Tony’s van and set off for their next destination.
“No peeking!” Emily gleefully scolded her brother, who was tugging at the blindfold they had fastened around his head.
“Are we there yet?” Hancock asked.
“Gettin’ closer!” Tony called from the driver’s seat.
This conversation was repeated five more times before the van pulled to a stop. Chelsea helped Hancock out of the car and led him about fifteen steps before a heavy rumbling followed by a distant wave of shrill screams and nervous laughter gave their location away.
“Fiesta Texas!” Hancock exclaimed, ripping the blindfold from his eyes.
The sprawling amusement park had been built into the side of an old rock quarry when Chelsea was a teenager.
“So, what do you think?” she asked as they approached.
“Awesome!” Hancock exclaimed. “Can we ride the Poltergeist?”
“You better believe we’re going to ride it!”
“Dad!” Hancock zigzagged through a tour group from the Netherlands and into the arms of Sawyer.
“Happy Birthday! Surprised?”
Hancock nearly nodded his head off. “Totally! But how—” He looked over at his mom.
“Who am I to break tradition?” she said with a shrug.
Hancock unhinged himself from Sawyer’s side and wrapped Chelsea in a big bear hug. “Thanks, Mom,” he said.
Chelsea brushed his hair out of his eyes and laid a kiss on his forehead. And he didn’t even flinch.
“Happy Birthday, Son,” she said before revealing one last surprise. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to ride the Poltergeist!”
All heads snapped to Chelsea.
“You’re going to ride the Poltergeist?” Sawyer asked, his eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline.
“Maybe even twice,” Chelsea said, fending off a serious case of collywobbles with a smug smile. “So who’s going with me?”