Chapter 5 #2
I gave him a tight squeeze and even dared to kiss his temple real quick. He was getting so tall. He had to be around five-ten now.
He eased back and smirked, ’cause that’s what he did. He was a smirker.
“You ready to drive?” I asked, grabbing my ball cap again.
“Yeah. Can we do 95?”
I tossed him the key. “Sure, if you wanna stand still for forty-five minutes.”
He wrinkled his nose and disappeared behind the truck. “Or we’ll just wing it.”
Winging it, it was.
I got in next to him and buckled up. “Recite the Riley Student Driver’s Creed, please.”
He laughed through his nose and adjusted the mirrors and his seat. “Uh, always address cops as sir or ma’am, someone is always watching, I’m not street-smart enough for juvie, it’s okay to flip people off for not using their lights when it’s dark, and fuck diplomats.”
“Because…”
“Because toddlers drive better than them.”
“Attaboy. And if Dad or your driving instructor asks you…”
He put on the seat belt. “I rarely take advice from you.”
Perfect. “You’re good to go.”
He eased out of the lot, nice and calm, and I reminded him to plan his route. Even if he was going to “wing it,” he needed a plan. He couldn’t make split-second decisions and switch lanes two seconds before a stoplight. Not as a default anyway.
“Did Dad text you about Mikey eating vegetables?” he asked.
“Yeah, he did. He texted you too?” I was a little surprised at that.
“He asked me to say good job or something like that if it was mentioned.”
I hummed. Come to think of it, that made sense. Mikey looked up to Dylan something fierce, and it wouldn’t be a bad idea if I included the big brother in my plan.
“I don’t see the big deal,” he added. “So he’s a little chubby. He’s got a lot of growing to do.”
“We’re not worried,” I assured him. “We’re just trying to get ahead of something before it becomes a problem. It’s easier for children to form healthier habits than adults. You’ve seen Pop-Pop tryna give up smoking. And Grandma tryna give up the sweets.”
My ma needed to watch her blood sugar.
“Blinkers,” I reminded.
“Fuck.” He moved over to the middle lane and checked the rearview again. “All right. So I’ll tell him good job when he eats vegetables…?”
I tipped my head, weighing my answer. “I think what would work even better is if you ate your own damn vegetables. He looks up to you, buddy.”
Good turn—he was steady and relaxed.
“It got me thinking, actually,” I continued.
“Dad and I wanna get him to enjoy more physical exercise, so I’m gonna dust off my mountain bike.
If he goes with me for half an hour every day, we’re gonna do a boys’ trip at some point.
You should come with. Tragic as it is for my ego, you have greater influence on him as his big brother. ”
I’d expected Dylan to smirk or chuckle. Instead, he smiled. “I’ve missed this.”
“Missed what?”
He shrugged, eyeing his side-view. “I don’t know—the extra activities, I guess. Youse were always full of ideas in the past. Weekends were never boring. But this past year, it’s been…you know, more about surviving the day or something.”
Dylan could surprise me. Nine times out of ten, he was the epitome of shrugging teenager who shied away from affection and spending extra time with the folks. But then he picked up on things, filed them away, until he was ready to drop a truth bomb or two.
He wasn’t wrong.
“That’s actually what we’re supposed to be talking about right now,” I said. “We can discuss Mikey another time. I wanna know your thoughts about Dad and me getting back together. And if you have any questions.”
He thought about it. Or he was concentrating on traffic. Either way, I wasn’t rushing his response.
“Ease up a bit,” I advised. “You don’t wanna be too close to the car in front of you. That’s the type of driver I wanna step on my brakes for.”
“I’m not sure a Philly driver mixes well with a NoVa driver,” he muttered. “You’re both your own breed of batshit crazy.”
“The Philly driver is better.”
“How do you figure?”
“We retaliate against stupid,” I said.
“And the NoVa drivers?”
“Well, they are the stupid.”
He laughed. “You’re such a good teacher, Dad. You know I’m gonna be one of those NoVa drivers, right?”
“Bullshit. You were born in Philly like your old man.” I pointed up ahead. “Drive into that parking lot. Rush-hour shoppers—that’s good practice.”
He’d evolved a lot. I knew he’d practiced quite a bit with Nathan.
We actually weren’t that far away from the Mexican restaurant we were going to later. I was gonna eat my body weight in nachos and enchiladas.
“Okay, I have a question,” Dylan said, managing the turn perfectly. “Did you and Dad really work shit out for real, or is there a risk of, you know—like, a back-and-forth, on-and-off kind of situation?”
Valid worry for a kid, I’d say.
“We worked everything out,” I promised. “That matter is still private—”
“’Cause it’s about sex.”
I shot him a look. “Why the fuck would it be about sex?”
“Because it’s the one thing parents don’t discuss with their kids, unless it’s educational shit like putting a rubber on a banana, birds and bees, and STIs.”
The mouth on him! But what was I supposed to say?
If I called it an identity matter, it would only confuse him.
The problem sure as hell wasn’t sex. For chrissakes, Nate and I had rocked each other’s worlds for twenty years without getting bored.
But I wasn’t gonna say that. I also wasn’t gonna say that Dad and I were into some kinky shit.
“That’s enough outta you on that,” I said firmly. “Believe me, the problem ain’t the way we go at it together.”
“Dad!”
“You brought it up! Watch out for the cart—yeah. Okay, good.” I blew out a breath.
Maybe this wasn’t the best timing for a heart-to-heart.
“Moving on. Dad and I only had that one issue, and we’ve figured things out.
We have a solution. The rest—there’s nothing else.
We’re each other’s best friends, confidants, husbands, and sounding boards. There will be no on-and-off crap.”
“Okay.” He merely smiled to himself, unbothered by the topic, unbothered by the shoppers, unbothered by pretending to look for a parking spot, unbothered by the multitasking.
Something for me to remember the next time he said he couldn’t finish his chores and talk to his friends at the same time.
“Do you have any other questions?” I wondered.
He shrugged and bit at the corner of his lip. “Not really. I just want us to be a family again—like before.”
I nodded.
“Well, I guess there’s one thing,” he added. “Are we all moving to the new house, and can we move like fucking yesterday?”
I let out a laugh, feeling the exact same way.
“Yesterday will be difficult, but yes, we are. We’re actually hoping to talk to Mikey and Lily tonight at dinner.
We wanna admit that it’s been a rough year—Dad and I have fought more, and we’ve been stuck in a stressful rut where we kinda forgot what’s important—because we’ve been working toward being able to buy a new house. ”
“But now everything’s good again and you have the house?”
“Pretty much.” I inclined my head. “We think Mikey’s noticed the change between Dad and me—”
“He has,” Dylan confirmed. “He came into my room the other day and wondered why youse don’t hug anymore. A bit slow on the uptake, but you know kids.”
My nearly sixteen-year-old son distancing himself from “kids” was a small comic relief in the heartbreak of Mikey picking up on the strain in the family. It was rough. Fucking hell, was it rough to hear. But it stopped today.
“What did you tell him?” I was almost afraid to ask.
“I don’t know, just…that parents go through shit sometimes.”
I released a breath and felt bad. “I’m sorry that fell on you, son. That wasn’t fair.”
“It’s fine. Really. Hallie’s been convincing me it was only a matter of time before you got back together. I fucking hate it when she’s right.”
I chuckled. “Do me a favor and get over it. It would suck if she was wrong on this one.”
“Yeah… Sorry, but I’m bored with this parking lot now.”
Fair. “You can start driving us home,” I replied.
“To the old house,” he corrected.
I grinned. “Can we talk about you now?”
“Why?” he demanded. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Jeesh. “I didn’t say you did either. Can’t a dad show interest in his son’s life? It sort of goes with parenting.” I paused. “For instance, are you still seeing that girl?”
“Katie? No, she was crazy.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” I stated.
“You’re sure, huh? You doubt your own son?”
Oof. Nate would probably tread carefully here, but I wasn’t him. “I don’t doubt a teenager’s obsession with hyperbole. But by all means, tell me what she did that was crazy.”
He huffed. “She wanted to talk every day.”
“The nerve on that girl. Good riddance. I don’t know how you put up with that nonsense.”
“You think you’re funny—”
“I think I’m fucking hilarious.” I just had to make that clear. “What else did she do that was crazy?”
“Okay, listen to this. She got pissy if I didn’t acknowledge her in the cafeteria—every single day.”
“Hoo boy—a girl who wanted a smile from her boyfriend at lunch. She’s downright certifiable.”
He let out a growling noise in frustration.
I chuckled and patted his leg. “I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean to be a dick, sweetheart. But can we agree she wasn’t crazy?
It’s not a word we should use willy-nilly unless they root for the Giants.
” Cowboys fans weren’t all there in the head either.
“My guess? You weren’t ready for a commitment, and that’s perfectly fine.
You’re focused on friends, golf, and hopefully your grades. ”
He seemed to mull things over for a bit—and he was back to concentrating on traffic.
He really was turning into a solid driver.
“You seem very comfortable behind the wheel these days,” I noted. “And you can definitely handle your old man’s shit-talk while you drive.”
His mouth twitched, but he wasn’t ready to show his amusement yet.