Oh God. What if I lost Dylan?
What if my one moment of stupidity caused me to irreparably harm my relationship with my son?
“I’m so, so sorry. Really.”
Dylan didn’t have any response to that. I forced myself to keep breathing, even though it felt like suffocation might be the best way to go. I couldn’t tell my son about how his father didn’t like my sex or my chicken—
But I had.
In the video.
And then there was whatever he’d overheard of our argument.
“It’s just all been such a shock. I didn’t mean to put that video up. It’s just—”
That your father’s nonchalantly mentioning that he wanted a divorce made me feel some kind of way.
Unwanted. Unloved. Betrayed.
My face burned hot again.
“How could you notmeanto put the video up? Come on, Mom. There are several steps you have to take.”
“I hadn’t eaten supper and I drank too much and I was upset and—”
“You would never accept those excuses from me.”
True.
“You are absolutely right, and I can’t apologize to you enough.”
Dylan waited on the other end of the line, but if he thought I was going to say more than that, then he was destined to be even more disappointed.
“I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I can take it down. Yes, I’ll go take it down.”
“Mom. There’s no point. It’s goingviral. Fiona freakin’ Dahl retweeted it, and you already have almost a million views. In less than two days.”
“A million?” That was ten times what my most popular video had made to date. And I had thought that video about making my own cat hoodie had been a fluke!
“Yeah. As mad as I am, most of the comments are supportive, and you now have enough hours and subscribers to monetize.”
“Monetize?”
Monetization had been my goal.
Yeah, my goal for a year from now. I’d done my homework and put everything in place for just such an eventuality, but I hadn’t thought I’d reach that goal so soon.
“Yes! You need to check and make sure you’re under review.”
“I’ll do that. As long as you’ll forgive your mother for having a weak moment.”
He sighed, reminding me of Dylan the thirteen-year-old for just a minute. “I’ll get over it. I mainly wanted to make sure you weren’t drowning in your own vomit like a ’70s rock star. Bye.”
I couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t forgiven me.
“Wait! Think you can come home again this weekend?”
Oh, I didn’t like the desperation in my voice.
