Another time, Greer.
I reached across the seat and pushed open the passenger’s side door. “Hey, kiddo.”
Dylan jumped in and mustered a quick smile. “Hey.”
“How was school?”
He shrugged and fastened the seat belt.
Good talk.
“You wanna eat first, or…?” I pulled away from the curb and straight into traffic.
“Uh, yeah.” He shifted in his seat and opened his gym bag. “Hoagies?”
“You got it.” I knew a place. Guy from Philly ran it.
Dylan changed into the shoes he wore when playing golf, and he replaced his Eagles cap with a Titleist cap.
“So, uh…your darling sister snitched on you the other day,” I mentioned. “Said you wanna enlist after high school.”
He huffed. “Of course she did.”
I’d wanted to talk to him yesterday when I’d dropped Mikey off at the house, but Dylan was always off with friends. He was a popular kid, one of those who didn’t really love the attention. Which, of course, worked for the girls. The less interested he was, the more they ran after him. He was getting tall too, in the middle of a growth spurt, and he was athletic and just devilish enough.
Lastly, his voice had changed, and the last traces of our little boy were practically gone.
“Which branch were you thinking?” I checked the side-view and switched on the turn signal. If that dude didn’t let me in soon, I’d take liberties.
“I don’t know. Marines, maybe.”
I nodded slowly, thinking carefully of my next step. It was best not to push too hard. I couldn’t be vague or ask him to “talk about it,” either; I had to ask specific questions but keep things chill.
“I haven’t decided yet,” he said. “Trayvon’s brother joined the Army last week.”
“All right.” I stepped on the gas as the light turned yellow. “That couldn’t have made Georgia happy.” That poor mother.
He chuckled at that. “Hell no.”
I side-eyed him.
I wasn’t gonna worry yet, I repeated to myself. The last thing I wanted was my son in the military, for selfish reasons and…well, fucking wanting him alive. But I just had to see how things played out. If he still wanted this when he turned eighteen, it wasn’t as if I could force him to choose something else.
“It’s possible Hallie also mentioned that Dad went all shrink on you and asked if you’re mad at us.” I threw that out there as well. “You know, for the split and whatever.”
He went quiet for a few seconds and looked out his window. “Mad is the wrong word. I’m confused as fuck. And…I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It’s just wrong. You’re miserable. Dad’s miserable. I don’t get it.”
I winced.
There wasn’t a chance in hell I could be 100% honest about the issues that’d brought us here, but I didn’t like the idea of Dylan and Hallie not understanding. So far, we’d told them we’d been fighting too much and we’d decided to separate to work on ourselves. That we still loved each other very much, but that love wasn’t always enough.
“I think Dad’s going through a midlife crisis,” Dylan added. “He goes swimming every single morning before work, and he’s taking all these vitamins and shit.”
I furrowed my brow. That didn’t sound like Nathan at all.
“Do you still go with him in the mornings?”
He half nodded. “Like, two or three times a week. I can’t do it every morning. We jump into the pool at fucking six AM. It’s inhumane.”
