“It’s your weekend,Victor, and it’s the third weekend you’ve canceled, on top of skipping your Wednesdays, which means you haven’t seen your son in almost two months.”
“I have to work extra hours because you put me on child support.”
“I didn’t put you on child support, the judge did. If you have a problem with it, take it up with him.”
“You could tell the court you don’t need my money, and I’ll still pay you in cash,” he suggested.
“You must think you’re talking to the old Naryah. She might have fallen for something like that just to keep the peace. The new me has wised up. If you have a problem with how much youwere ordered to pay, I’m not the person you should be talking to.”
“You’re always pissing me off. Just tell my son I’ll see him in two weeks. He’ll be fine.”
“He sure will be because he has me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said. You repeatedly let our son down, and I’m here to pick up the pieces.”
“Whatever, man. I’ll buy him something big, and he’ll forget all about the visits I missed. I’ll call him later and tell him something.”
“Sure you will.”
“Aye, don’t be over there pouring salt on my name to my son.”
“Why would I do that when your actions show him everything he needs to know? Bye, Victor.”
Talking to my ex-husband gave me a headache, so I ended the call before it became worse. Victor and I separated two years ago and divorced a year later after a six-year marriage. He wasn’t a good husband or father for the majority of our marriage, and since we separated, he only liked being a father when it was convenient for him.
It was cool, though. I liked it better this way, and although Keelan never said anything, he did too. His father lacked the skills needed to be a good human, so being a good father was way down on his list of qualities.
Legally, I couldn’t keep Keelan away from Victor, but the less my son was around him, the less of a chance he’d become a narcissistic asshole like his father. I was so grateful to be free from the mental, emotional, and verbal abuse I suffered during our marriage.
It was Friday, the beginning of yet another weekend I had no real plans. Now that Victor had confirmed he wouldn’t bepicking up our son, I’d see what Keelan wanted to do when I picked him up from school.
I had a lot of fears about being a single mother raising a Black son, primarily alone. My fears were what kept me in a toxic marriage for so long. Single motherhood had its ups and downs, but it was 100 percent better than raising him while married to a man who did nothing but tear me down.
I didn’t realize how much Victor’s treatment of me affected Keelan until I finally decided to take him and leave. His self-esteem suffered a great deal, and he doubted himself a lot more than the average kid his age. Since he started therapy, I noticed a positive change, and I was grateful.
I glanced at the clock and realized I only had thirty minutes before I had to leave to get Keelan from school. After finishing some paperwork for my last client for the day, I closed my work laptop for the weekend. I was an account manager for an insurance company and was blessed to work from home.
Not having to commute to and from work was great, but I had to set some clear boundaries for myself to ensure that I didn’t allow my work to consume me. I worked from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. and took a forty-five minute lunch. I didn’t take work-related calls outside of my work hours, and once my work laptop was closed for the day, I didn’t open it again until the next workday.
As soon as I stood from my desk, my German shepherd, Herqueles, who we affectionately called Que, stood with me. He’d been lying on the floor next to my chair since I last took him out. I could barely make a move without Que following me, especially when Keelan wasn’t around.
“What’s up, big boy? You ready to go get your brother?”
He barked as I rubbed the top of his head, then followed me to my bedroom door as I grabbed my purse and keys. He wasn’t allowed inside, so he stopped at the door. We went to thekitchen, where the door to enter the garage was located. A few minutes later, I had him secured in the back seat of my truck, and we were on our way toBlack Elm Elementaryto pick up Keelan.
When I arrived about ten minutes later, I parked behind another parent in the pickup line, turned off my engine, and picked up my phone from the cup holder. School didn’t release for twenty more minutes, so I scrolled through social media to pass the time.
Que began barking, pulling my attention away from my phone. I saw Keelan walking toward my car and got out to greet him. I noticed his sad expression, and my mother’s instincts kicked in.
“Hey, Keelan.”
“Hey, Mom.”
His tone was very melancholy, and I wrapped my arms around him. He returned my hug, but when he tried to back away, I stopped him. I was five feet, six inches, and at ten years old, Keelan and I were almost eye to eye. The sadness in his eyes didn’t sit well with me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
