Chapter Sixteen
Wendy
"Are you guys going to get a divorce?"
Liam's words make me pause, my burger hovering halfway to my mouth.
We dropped Noah off at his art class, and I asked Liam if he wanted to get an early lunch after our grocery trip to Mabel's. I've adjusted our grocery shopping to Saturdays now since I've been working on Sundays.
Now, we're at Dina's Diner, where Liam sits across from me in this giant booth, eating eggs and pancakes the size of his head, drowning everything in syrup. I'm treating myself to a greasy burger and sweet potato fries, my happy meal.
My son’s face isn't stressed or panicked; in fact, he looks rather casual as he asks the question.
"I think so, Liam," I say quietly, studying his reaction. When he doesn't give one, I ask him, "How do you feel about that?"
He shrugs, shoveling more syrup-covered eggs into his mouth. He chews thoughtfully, staring down at his plate, before he huffs out a small breath.
"I don't know, Mama. Will anything be different?"
The question lands hard, and I wince, my appetite disappearing completely.
"I'm sorry, Liam."
He frowns, "For what?"
"For allowing this," I say, gesturing vaguely between us, to him, to the world, to everything that led us here. "For allowing your father to… treat you like this."
The guilt settles on my skin like it belongs there, and I think of my own childhood. My mother who went back and forth between yelling at me or ignoring me, even when I was right in front of her begging her to talk to me.
Then I feel ashamed that I’ve allowed my children to encounter the same treatment. Atlas never yelled at them, thankfully, but sometimes silence cuts even deeper.
"I've never told you about my mother, have I?"
Liam shakes his head. "No, I asked Dad once, but he just said not to ask about your parents unless you brought it up first..."
I didn't know about that. I had always thought about telling my sons about my parents, and figured I would do so when they were older and could understand.
Well, Liam is older and understands more than I wish he did.
"My mother was... not nice," I start, choosing my words carefully before I sigh, realizing there's no point sugarcoating this.
My son deserves the truth. "Okay, no—she was mean.
She didn't like being a mother, and she didn't like being a mother to me.
And when she found out I was pregnant with you, she thought I was ruining my life, just like she believed she ruined hers by having me. "
Liam's eyes go soft and sad, his mouth parting. "Mama..."
"But I wanted you so bad," I say, stressing the words, forcing a smile that trembles despite my effort.
"Your father and I wanted you. And when you were born.
.. you changed our lives, baby. You were such a wonderful little gift," I laugh, picturing little baby Liam's face.
"God, and you were the most adorable little baby. "
Liam smiles shyly, his cheeks flushing pink as he looks down at his plate. "Mama..."
I smile sadly, pressing forward before I lose my nerve. "When my mother found out I was pregnant, she tracked me down at Walmart. I was there with your Daddy and Mom-Mom, and she... she slapped me. And she called me a very disgusting name that I won't repeat."
Liam's smile vanishes from his face completely, and he looks so much like his father at this moment that it's almost eerie.
His dark eyes narrow, his fist clenches hard around his fork, and his jaw cracks. The expression on his face is both angry and horrified.
"She hit you?"
I nod, keeping my voice steady, "She'd smack me, throw things at me, scream at me through my bedroom door. Or she’d ignore me completely, like I didn’t exist. I promised myself I would never do that to my children. I would never allow anyone to ever hurt them."
Liam remains quiet, his eyes filling with unshed tears. I reach out and cup his cheek, my thumb brushing under his eye.
"I wanted to be the best Mama to you and your brother," I say softly, wiping away the tear that finally spills. Liam pulls back and roughly wipes his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, sniffling, trying to hold onto that teenage nonchalance.
He remains quiet for a couple of moments, staring at his half-finished plate of food. No more tears, but he sniffles a couple more times and wipes his nose with his sleeve.
"You are the best, Mama."
"Yeah?" I ask, emotion swelling in my chest.
"Yeah. None of my friends' moms really care about basketball like you do. They don't come to the games or practices. My friends always say I'm lucky. You care. Not just about me and my basketball, though. Like Noah and his art. You don't just pretend. It's... it's nice."
My nose burns, that familiar feeling of imminent tears at his sweet words.
"You're my sons," I shrug, because it truly feels that simple.
It should be that simple for all parents. My son is interested in basketball, so I show up for every game and he can look into the stands and know that someone is cheering for him.
My other son loves art, so I show up to his art shows and when he talks about techniques and artists, I listen.
"No matter what you do," I say firmly, "I will always support you. You and your brother. Just do your best, and I will be proud. Okay?"
Liam nods, taking another big bite of his pancakes, and I bite into my burger. We both eat our food in silence before something occurs to me.
"Where did you find out about divorce?"
Liam's cheeks redden instantly, his expression turning sheepish. My brows raise in response as he answers me, keeping his eyes on his plate.
"There's a girl in my class. Birdie,” he says her name softly. “Her Mama and Daddy got divorced."
"Aw, that's a shame," I say, tilting my head to meet his eyes. "Did she tell you about it?"
Nodding, he shifts in his seat and his face looks pained now. "She said... she said her Daddy cheated on her Mama."
He looks up at me then, eyes wide and sad, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Did... did Daddy cheat on you?"
Instantly, I shake my head, reaching out and laying my hand over his.
"No, baby. No. Daddy didn't cheat on me."
Liam's shoulders drop, and I can see him exhale in relief. My heart twists. I need to reassure him and make sure he understands who his father is—a good man to his core—while also letting him know that how his father has treated us is not how you treat the ones you love.
"Daddy loves me, and I love him, but... sometimes, with relationships, love isn't enough. If there's no respect or trust, the relationship won't work. Birdie's Daddy didn't respect her Mama. That's really sad."
"I would never cheat," Liam says suddenly, his voice sharp. "Never. That's... it hurts Birdie really bad."
"Did she tell you that?"
He nods.
"Are you guys good friends?"
His cheeks darken even more, his voice quiet and shy as he admits, "She's... she's my best friend."
"I thought Will was your best friend," I tease gently.
"He is. But, she's..." he sighs, his expression softening, and he shrugs his shoulders. "She's my best friend, too.
"Well, I gotta meet this Birdie!" I say brightly.
"She's coming to my game on Friday," he tells me, lips twitching into a smile he's trying and failing to tame.
"Would you like to introduce me?"
The smile drops. "You won't, like... embarrass me or nothing, right?"
"Well," I sigh dramatically, "I suppose I'll have to leave your baby pictures at home. Ooh, but maybe I'll tell her about the time you ran butt-butt naked outside because you wanted to stay in the pool, even though your lips were blue and you were shriveling up like a prune."
"Mama!" He whines, sounding so much like my eight-year-old and not my almost fourteen-year-old.
"Oh, alright," I relent, smirking at my thoroughly embarrassed, grumpy teenager.
"She's different," he says after a moment, his tone shifting into something serious.
"Different?"
Liam nods, looking irritated now. "Some people make fun of her in school. They call her weird—but she's not! She's just... different."
"How is she different, baby?" I ask gently, surprised at how worked up he is over this.
"She won't look at you when she talks. She hums when she's nervous, and she does this with her hands," he demonstrates, twisting his fingers together. "She says it soothes her. And she doesn't like loud noises."
"And do you defend her when people make fun of her?" I ask, really hoping that he does.
Liam fervently nods. "And Will and the guys on the team. She likes basketball, and she knows a lot about it. We don't let anyone talk bad about her, but sometimes..."
"Kids are mean?" I finish for him, and he nods. "Well, I can't wait to meet this girl," I say cheerfully, making him smile.
"Me too."
"Is it just her and her Mama here?"
"Yeah. They moved last year. Her Mama works at the dentist's office. She's a... the person who cleans my teeth."
"Hygienist?"
"Yeah, that."
The waitress drops off our check with a smile, and I reach into my purse, dropping her tip on the table.
"Let's go get your brother. We've got chores to do at home," I grab my coat and move to stand from our booth.
Liam stands too, tossing the pulling hood over his head. We head to the front to pay, and I gasp, "Ooh, could I tell Birdie about the time you stuck a Lego up your nose?"
"Mama!"
◆◆◆
Six hours later, Liam is outside practicing his jump shot, though every time I peek out the window, he's smiling at his cellphone, thumbs tapping away almost frantically.
I suspect it's because of a little bird, because he's never worn that smile while texting Will. The sight makes me smile as I clean up after dinner.
Noah's sitting at the island, nodding along to the soft music playing from the speakers and drawing in his sketchbook when the doorbell rings.
"Can I get it?" Noah asks immediately, already half out of his seat. I check the front camera on my phone and see that it's Diane. I nod and he sprints to the door before I can say another word.
"Hi, Mom-Mom!"