13. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Dawson
“Do you have your football gloves?” I holler at Finn as I fill his water bottle from the fridge dispenser. We needed to leave five minutes ago to make it to the field on time. It doesn’t matter how organized I am, Finn has a way of moving things around quicker than the Tasmanian Devil.
“Yes!” He stomps down the hall, hair rumpled, yogurt dry and crusty on his upper lip.
I have no clue what time he went to bed last night, but it was definitely later than normal. And it shows. He’s been a bear since the moment I woke him up to get ready for the day. I calmly ask, “Will you go brush your teeth and comb your hair?”
“I already did,” he screams. “Stop asking me to do it!”
I blink. Does he think I’m stupid? He’s lying, and this is my first time requesting he go into the bathroom and make himself presentable. “Let me do a smell test.” This is one of the worst ideas I’ve had as a parent. Why do I want to smell disgusting stale breath ?
Because the fear of being caught lying works the majority of the time.
But Finn will not be deterred. “Fine. You can see I already did it and can stop yelling at me.”
Lord, grant me patience and wisdom to raise this boy.
“I’m not yelling at you,” I say in a monotone voice. “I apologize if it sounds like I am. Let me check those teeth out so we can get to your game.”
Finn’s brows pull together close enough they almost touch. His lips and nose are screwed up tight. Stomping into the kitchen, he stands there with his hands fisted at his sides. Finn raises his chin, staring at me like he dares me to say he didn’t brush his teeth.
Too bad for him; he doesn’t scare me. Grabbing his chin between my thumb and forefinger, I pry open his jaw and lean in, inhaling deeply.
I shudder, breathing out my mouth to avoid another nose-full of rancid odor. “Your teammates will pass out if they have to stand next to you. Go brush one more time, please. Your hair is fine.” It’s not, but I’m picking my battles this morning, and fuzzy teeth take priority over unruly hair. “I’ll meet you in the car!”
Grabbing his water bottle off the counter and his cleats from the basket by the back door, I head into the garage. After throwing everything in the passenger seat, I turn to grab a camp chair from the corner, then settle into the driver’s seat, resting my forehead against the steering wheel.
My head pounds behind my eyes. I stayed up way too late working last night after Chloe left so I wouldn’t need to today or tomorrow. Between my exhaustion and Finn’s attitude, I’m not sure how we’re going to get through the day.
It’s times like this that make me miss a partner. Someone I can tag-team when Finn’s ornery and my patience is spent. As much as I want to be the one with Finn most of the time, today might be one of the rare days he visits his cousins. Hopefully, they can turn Finn’s frown upside down.
Checking my watch, I groan. Finn still isn’t outside. We’re officially late. Finn will lose it when we arrive and his team is already on the field. Yay, more drama to look forward to. I honk the horn three times in a row. Let’s go, Finn.
He still doesn’t show up. I run inside. “Dude, let’s go! Chloe is waiting and so is your team.”
Rushing through the house, my eyes frantically dart around each room. I can’t find Finn. It’s like an alien spaceship came down and snatched him away. “Finn? Where are you?”
I fight the instinct to yell at him. Standing in the hallway between his bedroom and mine, I shout one last time. “Bud? We need to go!”
I’m about to text his coach to let him know Finn won’t make it today. I’ll have to see if Chloe can come here again to work on the festival.
Muffled sniffles catch my attention. Stepping into his room, I search his bed and closet but still don’t see him. “What’s wrong?”
A flash of skin darts out from under his bed.
Why didn’t I think to look there? Sneaky kid.
Getting down on the floor, making exaggerated grunts in an effort to make Finn laugh, I lie flat on my stomach and twist my face toward him. Finn’s lying on his back, completely under his bed. His left side is smashed against the wall.
“You’re missing your game.”
“I don’t care,” he snaps.
When he asked Chloe to come last night, he seemed excited. What changed overnight? I’m kicking myself for getting him off his routine. “Want to tell me why you no longer care?”
He stays silent.
Okay, time to play detective. “Are you nervous because you haven’t played football before?”
He grunts. Does that mean no?
“Are you sad you might not get to play the entire game?”
Another grunt.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I try to think why he might be nervous or scared. “Are you upset Grandma and Grandpa couldn’t come to your game today?” When I called to invite them, they said they’d be in Zion National Park this weekend. Mom felt awful and said she’d reschedule their trip, but I assured her there’d be other games to attend. She didn’t need to rearrange her schedule for Finn.
“I miss Mom,” Finn whispers.
It’s like a rusted hack saw cuts through my heart. I wish I could take Finn’s pain away. To relieve him of the despair of not having Willow around.
“I’m too big to squeeze under your bed. Can you come out so we can talk?”
Finn doesn’t move a muscle.
I hate this. Guilt gnaws away at my stomach like a bunch of grubs are eating a Thanksgiving feast in there. Was it selfish of me to divorce Willow? But how do you force someone to stay in a relationship they don’t want?
I can honestly say I did everything I could think of to make our marriage work, to keep us together as a family. I don’t want to hate Willow, but right now, I can’t help the frustration building inside me. She’s not the one here seeing the pain our son is in. Willow doesn’t have to console a child who doesn’t completely understand why we moved away.
I do. And the burden has never felt heavier.
“You’ll get to talk to your mom tomorrow, bud. You can ask her suggestions for your Me Poster and tell her all about your game today.”
“It’s not the same.”
“I know. If I could fix it for you, I would.” The crappiest part is this isn’t the first or the last time we’ll go through this. I want to go back to last night when I teased Chloe. When I wasn’t a dad. Just a dude joking around with a girl.
Finn sniffles and slithers toward me. I’ll deal with all the tantrums and talking back from Finn in exchange for the pain of Willow leaving Finn to go away. Instead, we get to deal with both. I sit up, pulling him onto my lap as soon as he’s cleared the bed frame.
Kissing the top of his head, I say, “I’m sorry, Finn. It’s not fair, and it sucks. I’ll take videos to send to your mom so she can see you, if you want?”
He nods against my chest.
“Should we head out then?”
My phone buzzes from my back jeans pocket. Pulling it out, I look at who’s calling. Chloe’s name flashes across the screen.
Tapping the green button, I put the call on speaker. “Hey, Chloe.”
“Hi. I think I’m in the wrong place. I can’t find you.”
“We had a slight delay this morning.” I squeeze Finn, letting him know I’m not mad at him. “We’re not at the field yet. Do you see the Broncos playing?”
“Yeah. They’re on the twenty yard line about to score a goal.”
“Finn?” It’s a one-word question implying so much more than just saying his name. Is he up for going? Would he rather stay home? I’ll support whatever he chooses, but I really want him to go to his game. Not because I paid for him to attend, but I want him to realize he can do hard things, especially when it’s the last thing he wants to do.
He’s strong. He’ll get through this despite my yearning that he doesn’t have to.
“We’re coming, Chloe!” Finn scrambles off my lap, pulling my arm to help me stand.
Chuckling, I say, “You heard him. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“I’ll save you a spot on the sidelines.”
Relief washes through me. “See you in a few.”