by Lily Foster
“He had me take out his baby book this morning. He wants to show it to you.”
I don’t tell him that Ethan actually said: I gonna show Dad baby Ethan. I had to excuse myself for a few moments. Just hearing him refer to Simon as Dad had me welling up, and then being hit, once again, with the guilt over Simon never having the chance to witness all those milestones, I felt a crushing sense of sadness.
“I’d like that.”
I feel like telling him to brace himself, because it’s going to hurt.
Simon
She’s already called me five times this morning. She has to know I’m not looking to connect with her right now, must understand that I’m furious, so I can only assume she’s hell bent on pleading her case. She’s too arrogant to simply admit she was wrong and apologize. I’m sure she’s been thinking this through, maybe even working out a strategy with her mother since I tore out of there. I’ll have to face her someday, talk to her in the very least, but today’s not that day. I switched the ringer off before I left the cabin, but the buzzing sound it’s making as it vibrates against the table is about as disruptive as a jackhammer right now.
“You’re more popular than the president.” Charlotte tosses this out before going back to the counter to finish preparing lunch.
“Hey, about before—”
“Let’s not do this right now.” She turns to face me. “I can’t.”
Her expression is a plea, so I don’t press, but I’m itching to clear the air because I want to know more about her life in return. She hasn’t been holed up here for the past three years. She’s a college student, and a beautiful one at that. I want details on everyone who’s in her life, in Ethan’s life. I need to know what I’ve missed.
Her expression turns on a dime, eyes bright and smiling now. “What have you got there?”
I didn’t hear them come in, so my heart rate skyrockets when I turn to see my son, finally getting a chance to take him in. He’s hiding behind Lawrence, peering around the man’s legs to get a look at me. I’m smiling even though I’m definitely more scared than he is right now. I’ve rehearsed this moment a hundred times over the past forty-eight or so hours, but I’m stumped now, the opening lines I’ve practiced forgotten.
I stand and then crouch down so I’m at his level. “Hi, Ethan…I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.” Lawrence moves into the kitchen area, which brings my son closer. I still have the drawing in my hand, so I hold it up to him. “Did you draw this?”
“Yes,” he answers. He’s out from behind Lawrence now but still holding onto the hem of his shorts with one hand.
“I really like it. You’re a good artist.”
“That’s me,” he points to the little figure tentatively, “and that’s Dad,” he adds when he points to the large blob that is me.
“I’m Simon. I’m your dad.”
He gives me a lopsided smile, and that alone threatens to crack me wide open.
“Who’s hungry?”
“I could eat,” Lawrence says, sliding a chair out. He reaches over and shakes my hand. “Good to see you, Simon.”
“Thanks for letting me use the cabin.”
He nods and smiles as he directs Ethan to take the chair between us. That one small gesture leads me to believe I have an ally in this man. Charlotte hands Lawrence a glass of water and a pill as he asks, “What’s for lunch?”
“A little chicken salad.”
Ethan glances my way when he says in a quiet voice, “Sawad is my favowite.”
“Does your mom still put those little red berries in her chicken salad?”
“Cwanbewwies?” he asks, nodding his head and smiling. “Yeah.”
Charlotte shoots Ethan a playful look as she sets the chicken salad and a basket full of rolls onto the table. “Except now I make sure to put the cranberries in there so that Ethan won’t feed his lunch to Moe.” Looking to me she explains, “The dog doesn’t like them.”
“You’ve got a dog?” When he nods, I say, “You’re lucky. I always wanted a dog when I was your age, but my brother Timmy used to sneeze and cough like crazy whenever he was around animals, so we couldn’t have one in the house.”
He looks at me, all wide-eyed innocence. “I don’t sneeze.”
Charlotte chimes in. “That’s because you don’t have allergies. If you did, Moe would make you sneeze.” He laughs when Charlotte lets out an exaggerated ah-choo. “Where is Moe, anyway?”
“Out back chasing after something or other,” Lawrence says. “Maybe after we eat, you can show your dad how you feed Moe.” Lawrence looks to me. “Ethan’s very responsible with the dog.” Taking small bites of his sandwich, a shy smile takes shape as Lawrence continues to praise him. “He’s getting real good at brushing his coat out at night, and always makes sure he has enough water and food.”
Ethan looks to Lawrence. “And I teached him fetch.”
Lawrence smiles and musses Ethan’s hair. “That’s right, you taught him to play fetch.”
I’m a little envious of their close relationship, but grateful at the same time. It’s easy to see Lawrence is a positive influence on Ethan. And he strikes me as a Grizzly Adams kind of wilderness man with his beard and calloused hands. He’s someone who can protect his homestead. With him around, you know Charlotte and Ethan are in good hands, they’re safe.
I’m reaching over for another roll when Charlotte says, “Three sandwiches…Some things never change.”
I smile, remembering the way she used to tease me about how much food I could put away. I want her to remember the good parts, the times when we were together and it was good between us. It makes me feel like she’s letting me in a little, makes me feel like I belong here.
Turning to Ethan, I say, “Yeah, that’s something you should know about me. I eat, a lot.”
He laughs as he copies me, taking a big bite out of his sandwich.
“Big man, big bites,” Charlotte reaches for the sandwich and gently pulls it back from Ethan, “little man, little bites. Now chew, you don’t want to choke.”
I watch Ethan chew his food and then mouth the word sorry to Charlotte. She shakes her head, reassuring me it’s no big deal.
“I done,” Ethan announces as he squirms his way down off his chair. “Wanna see Moe?”
“Can’t wait,” I answer, feeling as if I’ve just been handed an invitation to ride shotgun on the space shuttle.
I watch as he uses all his might to slide open the back door and then follow him onto the deck. The home backs onto an inlet where you can see the great expanse of Lake Superior just beyond. The beauty of it stops me in my tracks for a moment, and before I know it, Ethan is running at his version of full speed towards the water.
“Wait up!” I’m sprinting to catch him when he suddenly stops to pick a tennis ball up off the grass. My heart is beating double time and I’m running through scenarios of what could have just happened when I hear soft chuckling behind me.
“He nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“It’s nerve racking being around a toddler, right?” She takes in my wide-eyed look of panic and busts out laughing. “Sorry, but you should see your face right now. It’s not as bad when you’ve had the benefit of being eased into it.”
“Is he all right around the water?”
“He’s not reckless by nature and he listens to what he’s told, but no, one of us is always out here with him. He knows he’s not allowed outside unless he tells me or Lawrence first.”
“That’s good.”
“I want to get him into swim lessons but that’s going to have to wait a while.”
“When do kids usually start?”
“Are you kidding? They have swim lessons designed for infants now.” She shakes her head smiling. “Ann Arbor is chock-full of overachieving parents who want their kids to be skilled swimmers, champion chess players and fluent in multiple languages by the time they hit kindergarten.”
“Just like home, right?”
&nbs
p; I notice she doesn’t take her eyes off Ethan when she laughs and says, “Oh yeah, just like home.”
“Is it because of his heart?”
“It’s really about making sure his immune system is strong. Like, he could be enrolled in preschool this coming fall, but I’m waiting on that too.” She looks to me, maybe to gauge my reaction before she looks back to the shoreline. “Last winter was rough. I can’t put him in a classroom full of germy kids until I’m sure he can handle it.”
“We didn’t start school until kindergarten, right?”
“I started preschool at four, I think.”
“Well, I’m on board with whatever you decide.”
The words—my first actual co-parenting statement—hang in the air. Is she going to shoot me down, tell me that I have no say?
“Thanks,” she says instead, and there’s no sarcasm or animosity behind it.
Ethan is finally slowing down an hour or two later. In that time, we’ve tortured poor Moe by making him run after our ball about a hundred times. I got a tour of Moe’s doghouse too, with Ethan urging me to crawl all the way inside of it with him. He’s shown me how he tosses stones into the lake, and to my relief warns, “Don’t go too cwose,” when I edge towards the shore. He also introduced me to the different birds that come to peck off the feeder that hangs from one of the smaller trees. The best was when he pointed to the one he called a black cap chickadee. Ethan asked me, “You know why?” meaning why they’re named that, and then started calling out, “Chick-a-dee-chick-a-dee,” in his little voice. When the bird started making the same sound in reply a moment later, Ethan turned to me clapping his hands with a look of pure joy. I had to fight the urge to scoop him up and squeeze him tight, this sudden, unfamiliar feeling of unconditional love coursing through me.
“Is he tiring you out?”
We both turn to her at the same time and say, “I’m not tired,” which makes her laugh.
“You wanna see the hamuck?”
“Sure.” I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I’ll say yes to anything this boy asks me right now.
“The hammock, Ethan? Are you sure you don’t want to go upstairs for a nap?”
“I not tired,” he repeats, this time with a little spit and vinegar.
“It’s all right, I’ll hang out with him.”
“He’s going to pass out in five minutes.”
I shrug. “I’ve got no pressing appointments or anything.”
“Ok,” she says, considering something for a moment. “If you’re sure you don’t mind, then I’m going to grab my laptop. I’m taking two courses this summer to make up for the ones I dropped this past semester.” My face must show the concern I’m feeling. She lowers her voice, reassuring me, “Losing Janelle was overwhelming for a while there, and I had to slow my pace, needed to be home with him.”
“That must have been really hard.”
She’s lost in thought for a moment before collecting herself and nodding. When Ethan comes to tug on my hand, she says, “You’re popular around here.”
“Thank God.”
And I truly thank God for this day, when not ten minutes later, Ethan’s warm little body is curled up into mine, breathing evenly.
Charlotte
He’s in love.
I’ve never taken drugs, never had much desire or opportunity to drink, but I imagine what Simon’s experiencing right now is the best high ever. When a child you love graces you with a smile, a hug or their touch, it feels like you’ve won the lottery. It’s something you come to crave.
Simon is in the hammock with one foot hanging over the side, slowly pushing off on it every thirty seconds or so to keep them in motion. He’s lulling Ethan to sleep while looking down at his face, watching as his eyes get heavy and his breath deepens. Simon is mesmerized.
I’ve got my laptop open, trying in vain to concentrate on the slides I’m supposed to compare for my Art History class, but there’s a far more interesting subject holding my attention right now. I don’t want to be caught staring in amazement at the site before me, but it’s hard to look away. Not ten minutes later, I can hear a man’s deep breathing, and I know Simon has succumbed to the fresh air and the gentle swaying of the hammock. I tiptoe closer and snap a few pictures on my phone. I took a couple of the two of them playing with Moe, and one where Simon had Ethan perched on his shoulders, the two of them laughing as they chased after a cotton-tail rabbit. I want these memories for Ethan—that's what I tell myself.
“How are you doing?”
I take the iced tea Lawrence offers as I make my way back onto the deck. “I’m a mess.”
“From where I’m sitting, it looks like things are going pretty well.”
“It’s so weird, though, right?”
“That’ll pass.”
“I guess.”
“What’s weighing on your mind, kid?”
“I just want to know what he’s thinking. I want to lay everything out on the table. I want to know what his intentions are, and not in general terms.”
“Think you might have to ease into all that, Charlotte, and slow down. Remember, this is a shock to his system. The man just found out he has a three-year-old son.”
“Thanks.” The reminder is something I don’t want or need. I feel bad enough as it is.
Lawrence chuckles. “Didn’t mean that the way you’re taking it.”
“I know.”
“What has he told you about his life?”
“I’ve been babbling nonstop, haven’t given him much of an opening.”
“There’s time for that.”
“Is there?” I look to Lawrence. “I think that’s what’s bothering me. Is he here for another day, a week? Will we see him again before the summer’s over, or is he going back to his life? Is he going to be a Christmas and birthday kind of father?”
“He doesn’t strike me as that type, but who really knows? What’s the worst-case scenario?”
“Hmm, I don’t know...Maybe that he leaves here tomorrow, goes back into the waiting arms of his beautiful girlfriend, gets married and sues me for full custody?”
“Is your mind really going there?”
“Not really.” I take a sip of my drink, considering the situation. “If I’m being honest, it’s just the waiting arms of the beautiful girlfriend thing.”
“Is this girlfriend real or imaginary?”
“Pretty sure she’s a reality.”
“Don’t borrow trouble from tomorrow.”
I nudge his foot with mine. “You’re sounding an awful lot like Janelle right now, and I mean that as a compliment.”
“No, Janelle would tell you not to put the cart before the horse.”
“Or not to count my chickens before they hatch.”
Lawrence studies me. “She would tell you that you can handle anything that comes your way. You’ve proven it a million times over. Best case scenario, worst case, doesn’t matter...You and Ethan are going to be fine.”
I mull that over, and knowing it’s true gives me some much-needed peace. I smile when Barbara Ryan’s battle cry comes to mind: You’ll do more than survive, you’ll thrive!
Yes, I need to be patient, but more importantly, I need to be realistic. Looking back over to where my son and his father rest together, I tell myself that I can handle anything that comes my way—I have to for Ethan’s sake. I can even survive the loss of Simon again.
“Can you take a picture for me?” Simon asks, handing me his phone. “Ethan, let’s get Moe in the picture with us.”
Ethan runs over and takes Moe by the collar. “Come on, boy.”
“That poor dog,” I mutter under my breath. “Gentle with him, Ethan.”
I look up to see Simon smiling at me. He’s been doing that all day, looking at me and smiling whenever I catch him. Don’t, Charlotte, I remind myself. Don’t go hanging your hopes on a fantasy. Remember that other girl. Yeah, she makes him smile too.
Collecting myself, I snap a few p
ictures. They look like good ones, but I’m careful not to scroll back and check. I don’t know if I’d be able to resist temptation, to get a look at the last photo he took. Would it be of her, of the two of them together?
“See if they’re good.” My tone sounds stiff when I hand the phone back to Simon.
“They came out great,” he says. He spends his time, studying each one. He looks to me and hands the phone back over. “This one’s the best.”
I swallow. It is a great picture, a beautiful one. The lake, the red streaked sky and the setting sun as a backdrop give it a magical quality, but it’s Ethan’s expression that does me in. He’s looking up at Simon, not at the camera, and smiling in an awestruck kind of way. Returning the phone, I avoid his eyes. “Yeah, that’s a great shot. Can you send it to me?”
“Lemme see, lemme see,” Ethan chimes in as he attempts to scale Simon’s legs.
Simon sinks down onto the grass laughing and Ethan scrambles into his lap. “Wait a sec,” he tells Ethan as he fiddles with his phone. “Let me send this one to Mommy and then I’ll show you the rest.”
Everything is magnified today. Simple words, but him referring to me as Mommy instead of, I don’t know, your mother, has me welling up. When I repeat the sentence with the replacement—Let me send this one to your mother—I can’t deny that it pleases me. Mommy sounds different, more intimate, better.
Again, I look back and catch him studying me. He clears his throat then, shifting his focus back to Ethan. “I’ll have to send this picture to my brother Michael. He’ll be so excited to see you, and he loves dogs too.”
“He don’t sneeze?”
Simon laughs. “No, that was my other brother, Timmy, who sneezed and coughed.” He kisses Ethan’s head like it’s second nature—the way it is to me—before shifting him off his lap to stand. “Be back in one second. I’ve got a picture of my brothers in my truck that I want you to see.”
“We’ll meet you inside, it’s getting buggy out here.”
“I wanna see the twuck.”
Simon looks to me for consent first. It surprises and pleases me every time he does it. And I’m sure I’m building this up in my head, but when I nod, he looks at me and smiles in a way that feels special. I physically feel the warmth in my chest.
