“I’m Charlie’s aunt. I just wanted you to know something.” I dropped my voice low. “I’m watching you. All the time.” We stared at each other for a few moments, then he visibly swallowed and backed off down the hall.
Luke gaped at me. “Did you just threaten a child?”
“That wasn’t a threat. I just told him I was watching him. He was picking on Charlie, and if he does it again, I’ll make him regret it.” Somehow. That part wasn’t clear.
Charlie and Macdara emerged again from the pool, this time with their equipment bags and other gear. “Hi, Uncle Luke!” Macdara wrapped her arms around him.
“I just worked out,” he warned her. “This could be a foulhug.”
He had just worked out? He was pristine! I thought he had just gotten out of the shower or something.
“I don’t care, I’m getting you all wet! Are you coming to my meet this weekend?” she demanded. Luke pulled up his shirt and wiped his forehead, giving me a straight-shot look at his stomach. Oh, mother of pearl, he still had the six pack.
Luke looked at me with raised eyebrows. “What meet?
“The Mid-Michigan Invitational. Charlie and I are driving down Saturday early,” I explained.
“You’re not staying in the hotel with everybody Friday night?” Macdara asked. “Why? It’s going to be fun! We get to have the breakfast buffet all to ourselves in the mornings, just the team!”
Charlie looked at me with big eyes. “That would be fun, Em!”
My chest tightened. “Nope, we’re driving down Saturday morning, pal. And we’re only staying one day.” I felt bad enough about putting all the miles on the Bronco. And now Charlie was disappointed too.
“Oh.” His head drooped.
“Maybe I could catch a ride with you and Charlie,” Luke said casually. “Would that be ok?”
I looked at him. “Seriously?”
“If that’s ok.”
“Um, sure…”
“Great,” he said. “I’ll text you and we can work out the details. Let’s go, Mackie.”
They waved and I was left with my little wet pal. “Let’s hit the road, too, sweat pea. Your mom needs some dinner.”
The days were getting longer, and there was enough light for Charlie to work on his homework in the car. “Emmy, do you have a glue stick?”
“Not on me, pal. Can you glue it when we get home?”
“I guess.”
He was quiet while working, and I was left to endlessly replay my interaction with Luke. The meet was about two hours away by normal car, three in the Bronco that I was afraid to push above fifty. Three hours in the car with Luke? What would we talk about? Would I manage not to have something gross on my face or body? I would need to get up at about four to leave myself enough prep time.
Cassie had a strange air of excitement when we came in. She agreed to come down and have dinner with Charlie and me, and it had been weeks since that had happened. As Charlie again slurped his pasta (still needed to work on the table manners), Cassie picked at the contents of her plate, and I watched her from narrowed eyes. I asked Charlie to tell us about his day, and he launched into a complicated story about kickball. Kids were not following the rules and it was ticking him off. “So I told Anderson, if your foot leaves the base, then I can tag you and you’re out! And Trenton said that I was wrong, but LuLu was on my side, so I said…” The story went on and on, and covered any awkward pauses that naturally arose when a mother and son had nothing to say to each other.
Finally the kickball saga was over and Charlie left to hunt for a glue stick. Cassie watched me as I gathered the plates and started to wash them. She seemed almost febrile. “You feeling ok?” I asked casually. We had an appointment with the oncologist the next day if anything was wrong, if she could hold on for that long.
“Mike called today.”
I dropped the plate I was holding, and it broke against the cast iron sink. Slowly I reached to pick up the pieces.
“Mike? What did he want?”
“To see how I was doing.”
“Where is he? Is he coming back? Is he working?” The questions poured out of me.
