This isn’t easy to say about a mother, any mother, especially Kyle’s mother, since Kyle wasn’t doing all that hot at the moment. But Polly Parker was cut-and-dry. What I mean is, there was no middle ground with Kyle’s mom. Things were either good or bad. Right or wrong. No compromises. No second-guessing. Once she made up her mind, that was it. Finished. End of story. You might consider this hard-hearted. But as far as Mrs. Parker was concerned, she’d been raising two kids the past six years. And one of them happened to be her husband.
“Kyle, your father won’t be living here any longer,” she said.
She didn’t shrug. She didn’t reach across the table and hold Kyle’s hand. She didn’t say, “I’m sorry.” Because that was another thing about Kyle’s mom. She got right to the point. No shilly-shallying or dillydallying. Life was what it was. And it didn’t get any better if you tried to dress it up with whipped cream and a cherry on top.
“Why?” Kyle said.
“I think you know why,” his mom said.
So okay. So it’s time we said something nice about Mrs. Parker. Which, actually, isn’t all that difficult. Because Mrs. Parker probably worked as hard at her profession as anyone you will ever meet. Plus, she was great at it.
Great as a what?
As a headhunter.
No, she didn’t shrink human skulls and stick them on the ends of spears. A headhunter is business lingo for someone who gets people jobs. Lawyer jobs. Teacher jobs. Executive assistant jobs. All kinds of jobs. And, yeah, Mrs. Parker got paid. And, yeah, she and her family needed the money. But money wasn’t the only reason she was so dedicated.
You see, Mrs. Parker believed that the right person in the right job for the right amount of money gave that person self-respect. Which was why she worked ten hours a day five days a week. I don’t mean she showed up. I don’t mean she put in her time. I mean, once she took you on as a client, it was pretty much a done deal that you were no more than three weeks away from starting your career.
And that wasn’t all. She had another great quality. Mrs. Parker loved Kyle the way Kyle loved Shakespeare.
Totally.
The no-compromising part of her personality?
That had nothing to do with Kyle. Oh, sure, he had to drink his milk and do his homework and be polite and get to bed on time. There was no cutting corners on any of that stuff. But with the big stuff, the stuff that mattered, the stuff that gave Kyle confidence and made him feel secure, Mrs. Parker never wavered.
Not once.
Not ever.
So don’t worry. Kyle wasn’t shaking in his socks that if he chewed with his mouth open he’d be out the door with his dad. As far as Kyle’s mom was concerned, there was the rest of the world, and then there was Kyle, and Mrs. Parker was as fierce as a grizzly bear when it came to protecting her cub.
Which was what she figured she was doing now. Protecting Kyle by giving it to him straight. No false hope. No pretending things might get better. Kyle’s father was gone. She kicked him out. Deal with it.
“For good?” Kyle said.
“Yes, Kyle.”
“No chance you’ll get back together?”
“No chance.”
“None?”
Mrs. Parker didn’t answer. Not out loud. Instead, she closed her eyes. And took a deep breath. And, in spite of herself, she reached across the table and took hold of her son’s hand. Because, remember, this was Kyle. The crack in her armor. And she was hurting him. And she knew it. And she’d rather rip her arm off at the socket than hear that tone in his voice or see that look in his eyes.
“What can I do, Kyle?” she finally said. “It’s the book. He’s been writing it for six years. Six years, Kyle. Without a penny. I have dreams too. I’m working ten hours a day, and for what? I want you to go to a good college. I want you to have everything you deserve. You’re a smart boy, Kyle, and I can’t keep paying the bills on your father’s dream. It’s killing me. I can’t stand it any longer.”
And she broke down. Right there at the kitchen table. Which may not sound odd to you. But as far as Kyle was concerned it was like the moon exploding or Tiger Woods hitting a drive less than two hundred yards. Kyle tried to move but couldn’t. He tried to speak but couldn’t do that, either.
So he just sat there.
Stunned.
Not just because of his mom’s tears. But also because of her last sentence. “I can’t stand it any longer,” she’d said. Not him. She hadn’t said, “I can’t stand him any longer.” She’d said it. Which meant his dad wasn’t killing her. The book was. Because it wasn’t earning any money. Because it wasn’t published. Which meant Kyle had to do something. He had to figure out a way to make sure Love in Autumn got published. No matter what. No matter where. Then maybe, just maybe, his mom and dad might get back together.
But how do you get a book published?
Huh?