Chapter Sixty-Nine

Michaela

Saturday

 

I arrived at the Acero’s to pick Matthew up at noon. Victor answered the door.

“He’s almost ready, mija. We’ve been packing his backpack.”

I stepped inside. “That’s fine. We’re getting lunch before a movie, so there’s time.”

He led me across the house to Matty’s room. “Michaela’s here.”

“Hope you’re hungry, kiddo.”

Matthew put his arms through his backpack straps. “Can I bring my pillow?”

“May I,” Victor corrected.

“May I bring it?”

“Of course. I want you to be comfortable tonight.”

He snagged it off his bed and hurried out of the private side of the house.

“He’s better than Thursday,” Victor murmured. “I think you’ll have fun.”

“Thanks. I’ll drop him at church tomorrow.”

We returned to the front door, my son standing there impatiently shifting his feet.

“Hey, jacket, bud,” I said. “It’s supposed to rain today.”

He went through the production of dropping his pack, grabbing his coat from the closet, and putting on both while Victor let me know he was attending 11:00AM Mass.

The high today would be in the sixties, so aside from the rain, I didn’t want my son to be cold. He hugged Victor, then shot out the door when I opened it.

Tried the handle on my car.

“It’s locked, Matty. Patience.” Safety was always the first priority.

Even for five minutes in the driveway, I wasn’t leaving my car open.

Once we were leaving the neighborhood, I asked him what he wanted to eat for lunch.

“Anywhere.” I said.

“I can pick anything?”

“Yep.”

“Johnny Rockets?”

There was one on the way to the theater, so, “Yep.”

“Okay.”

I asked what his favorite lesson at school was this week. Therapy had taught me that conversation happened more easily if questions required something other than yes or no in reply.

It wasn’t until we were seated at the restaurant that we moved into more serious topics.

“I’m going to be looking for a house,” I told him. “Would you like to see some?”

“Why?” His favorite question since he learned language.

“To have more space, including giving you a bed. Apartments are fine, but it’s nice to own something, too. Maybe have a yard.”

“If you have grass, you have to mow it.” His focus remained on coloring the kids’ menu with crayons.

“That’s true. If you did that for me someday, you’d earn chore money.”

His head popped up. “Like how I got paid for the birdhouse?”

“Similar. Older boys sometimes mow their neighbors’ lawns as a job. Your dad did it during summers.”

“Before he was a soldier?”

“Yes.”

“But he died.”

“Yes.” My throat still thickened at the thought.

He resumed coloring. “If he doesn’t sleep there, I don’t understand why Lola keeps his door shut. I try to look inside when she cleans, but she always shoos me away. Is there a secret in there?”

“No, Matty. I don’t think so.”

“People say I look like him. Is that important? Everyone is sad when they think of Dad.”

Oh, baby… “He was loved a lot, and the best person I knew.”

“I feel like I’m supposed to be sad when everyone else is sad, but I never knew him, so that feels weird. Like I’m lying, and that’s a sin.”

“No one wants you to lie, Matthew. But it’s normal to feel for others when they feel sad, especially those you love. When we share people’s feelings, that’s called empathy.”

“Lolo tells me stories.”

“I’m glad.” I smiled even though this conversation broke my heart a little. “You know, it can be difficult for grown-ups to know what to share and not share with children. We don’t want to give you more than you can handle, and sometimes that means we don’t say enough. I never want you to be afraid to ask me a question, okay? Any topic.”

“Okay.”

Our food arrived, so deep thoughts were tabled for later. How later, I didn’t know.

But I needed to be prepared to face them. We’d danced around Jonny’s death and our grief for too many years and Matthew was old enough to not be sheltered from it anymore. He deserved to know his father the best way we could convey.

That meant letting him explore the time capsule of Jonny’s room.

And it also meant, when the time came, that he should have the choice of helping pack up that room so the past could settle where it belonged—reachable for fond moments of nostalgia, yet not holding anyone back from their best life forward.

With full bellies, we went to see Night at the Museum: Secret of the Tomb, sharing a small bag of popcorn. One day, I’d show Matty other Robin Williams projects besides Aladdin.

A Hobbit movie was the only other kid-safe content, but he wasn’t watching LOTR stuff, yet. I wanted him to read the books and nine was a bit young for Tolkien’s linguistics.

Had I planned the rest of the night…other than a stocked fridge, no. If it wasn’t for the rain, we might’ve gone mini-golfing, but Gloria would have my hide if Matthew was wet all afternoon. I had more Disney movies, of course, and board games. Moira and I had snagged a lot of board games from yard sales and thrift shops. His bedtime wasn’t until nine.

Six hours from now.

We entered my apartment for the second time in a week.

“Hang your jacket next to the door.” I shook my umbrella out in the hall, then dropped it in the metal bucket to dry. “Shall we hang up your church clothes so they aren’t wrinkled tomorrow?”

“’kay.” He pushed his backpack into my hands and skipped over to plop on the sofa.

“Matty.”

“Fine.” He followed me into the bathroom where I’d set small hangers for this purpose.

While I wasn’t Gloria, I wouldn’t let him get away with murder just to be liked, either. I’d always made it clear he needed to respect me as an adult, if not his mother.

“I’m hungry,” he said once we were done.

“How about an apple?”

“Meh.”

“Well, fruit is the only snack you can have before dinner.”

“Fine.”

I sliced a Granny Smith into quarters and dropped the pieces into a bowl. He took it to the couch. “Want to play a game? I have several options.”

“I don’t like rainy days. Lola doesn’t let me do anything.”

I sat with him. “When I was a little girl, I wasn’t allowed to get dirty.”

His nose wrinkled up. “That’s boring.”

“It was. I wasn’t always good. Sometimes I cleaned up before my mother got home.”

“Lola said splashing in puddles is only cute for toddlers. I hear her and Lolo argue sometimes. ‘Let the boy be a boy’, he says.” Mimicking Victor’s deeper tone. “I wish I could ride my bike on our street, but Lola says only if someone’s watching me.” His mouth twisted into a frown. “I’m not a baby.”

“You are not. But we want you to be safe. Even in places that look safe, not all people are nice.”

“Stranger Danger, yeah, yeah…”

“Matty…”

“I know.”

“Believe me, kiddo, I wish the world wasn’t like it is. I wish no one ever had to worry about what might happen outside their house. Now…we can complain about what we don’t like, or do something fun until it’s time to make dinner.”