“I was in a game.Me and Steven are trying to beat these kids from school in a tournament.We’re about to do a rematch.”
“Sounds like fun.”I lean a hip against his desk and flash him a smile.
It’s rare for me to have a Saturday night off, and I was hoping Dylan and I could spend some time together.But the poor kid spent all morning helping me out at the farmer’s market.He deserves to have fun with his friends, even if that consists of him locking himself in his room, staring at a screen, and shouting weird phrases.
“I’m going to make some pizzas with the sourdough English muffins we picked up at the market today.Want me to bring you some when they’re done?”
“Can I have a slice of the jalapeno cheddar sourdough bread we got instead?”
“Sure, thing.”I push off his desk and bend to press a kiss to the top of head.I barely make it to the door before he fixes the headset back onto his head.
“Okay, I’m back.Let’s win this time.”
I laugh softly, shutting the door behind me, and make my way to the kitchen.I was in a rush this morning and never got around to cleaning it after I packaged all the soaps for the market.Containers and crates full of supplies litter the counter, along with my label maker, and a large tote with all my promotional material for my booth sits haphazardly on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.I guess I’ll be spending Saturday night cleaning all this shit, and if I don’t pass out before midnight, I might even play around on the computer.Get some work done on my website.At the rate I’m going, it’ll be two years before I get my online shop up and running.
But, hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day, right?
Grabbing the loaf of bread, I pop a couple of slices into the toaster.I’ll make the pizzas tomorrow.No sense in dirtying a bunch of dishes just for myself.The bread pops out of the toaster, and I spread some cream cheese on the toast.I bring Dylan his slice, but he’s so enamored by his game, I don’t think he even notices when I drop the paper plate on the side of his desk.
I eat while cleaning the kitchen, and when I’m done, I settle onto the couch with my laptop.Even with the sound of Dylan’s muffled voice drifting through the room, loneliness creeps in, along with a slew of intrusive thoughts.
In a couple of years, Dylan isn’t going to be content playing video games.He’s going to want to go out with his friends, and the sound of his voice won’t be the soundtrack to my days anymore.
That scares me.
I don’t know how I’ll cope with letting him go.I saw this post once, and the graphic said,being the mother of a son is like someone breaking up with you really slowly, and I felt that in my soul.It’s been just us for so long that I don’t know how to exist without him.My entire identity is Dylan’s mom, and the older he gets, the more I wonder what happens when it’s just me.
Who do I become then?
Do I just sit here, making soaps, and wait for the phone to ring so he can tell me what’s going on in his life?
Do I try to reinvent myself?
When Russell and I first got divorced, people would ask me when I was going to date again, and I brushed it off.I told them I was too busy, that a man was the last thing on my mind, and I truly felt that way.Raising my son, giving him my best, was my number one priority.Sure, I’ve dated a few guys over the years, but it never amounted to more, and that’s mainly because I’d go on those dates and just feel guilty.Like I had no business enjoying the company of a man when my son was home with a babysitter.I told myself the three hours I spent at dinner were better spent playing cars with Dylan.
I even judged other women for their choices.
If I saw a woman at the bar who had a similar situation to mine, I’d wonder why she wasn’t home with her kids.Was getting laid really more important than putting her children to bed?
But women like that were ahead of the game.
They knew being a mother was just one facet of who they were.That motherhood was a season that would go by quickly, and when it was over, they’d still have a whole lot of life to live.
It didn’t make them bad moms.
It made them smart.
Smart and brave.
Braver than me.
Maddox’s face flashes before me, and I push my laptop to the side.Pulling my legs to my chest, I wrap my arms around them and prop my chin on my knee.The last few days have been a whirlwind, and I wonder if his newfound presence in my life is what’s spurring all these feelings.
The possibility is terrifying.Maddox talks a good game, and he has eyes that bleed sincerity when he speaks.There is no armor thick enough to withstand his charms, but one can’t argue truth.As much as I want to believe he’s changed, our conversation last night proved he hasn’t.I just hope for his and Della’s sakes that he listened to me.
My doorbell sounds, interrupting my train of thought, and I glance at the clock.The only person who ever shows up unannounced is Russell, and after that scene at the bar, I’m in no mood for him and his bullshit.
I set my laptop on the coffee table and make my way to the door.I pull it open and nearly gasp when I see Maddox standing in front of me, his hands shoved into his pockets, his signature Stetson nowhere in sight, giving me an unobstructed view of his stormy eyes.
