“Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice portraying a hint of concern, which brought a small relief.
“Things are fine. I—I just thought we should discuss his upcoming visit with you. He might be anxious.”
“Anxious? Why?”
“I’m not sure…” I hadn’t given much thought to how I might explain that our grandson didn’t want to be with my husband for the same reasons I didn’t want to be with him. “I’ve already researched some activities for you two to do together, so maybe that will help him feel more…excited,” I sidestepped awkwardly.
“All right,” Eric conceded. “But what does this have to do with anxiety?”
Honestly, I hadn’t expected him to pay enough attention to catch on to my diversion.
“Well, since he’s been here with me, he’s expressed that he’s feeling like maybe you don’t want him around, and I’m asking you to be sensitive to his feelings.”
“Fine,” he replied, a touch of annoyance creeping into his tone. “But I still don’t understand why he’s so worried.”
“Look, I don’t know all the details myself,” I admitted. “But I do know that he’s been so worried, he had an accident last night.”
“An accident?” Eric asked, incredulous.
“Yes,” I said softly. “He wet the bed.”
“Joyce, he’s ten years old! When I was his age, I had a part-time job already. He needs to grow up.”
“Eric, he’s still a child,” I snapped back, my patience wearing thin.
“He’s a young Black man, and I wish you’d stop filling his head with all these ideas about feelings and emotions. That’syourthing, not his.”
See, now, why’d he have to go and say that? “Eric, we all have feelings, no matter how old or how young we are,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Unless you’re constantly shutting them down.”
I counted to ten, for my grandson’s sake. “This isn’t about me or you.”
“I know how to babysit my own grandchild. I’m not gonna coddle him. He’s got his games. TV. He’ll be fine.”
This was a no-win conversation. “All right, then,” I said. “I’ll send you the information about funactivitiesin email.”
“Go right ahead,” he replied, and we ended the call.
As I hung up the phone, I couldn’t help but worry that I had made things worse by telling Eric about Elijah’s accident. My intentions were good, but I knew all too well that even the best-laid plans could go awry.
This business of putting my own needs first… Maybe it wasn’t for the old Gen Xer in me. We sacrificedeverythingfor our kids. I felt like I was sending Elijah to boot camp.
I paced back and forth, my mind racing with thoughts of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. What if Eric made a snide comment? What if he compared Elijah to himself at that age, implying he was weak or a disappointment?
I sighed heavily, my shoulders tightening as I walked back into the kitchen. “Elijah should be out in a minute.”
Gabriella looked up from the glass she’d filled with juice,her dark eyes filled with concern. “Everything okay?” she asked gently.
“Just talked to my ex-husband, Eric,” I began, my voice shaking slightly. “He doesn’t seem excited about Elijah’s visit.”
Gabriella frowned, setting down her knife. “Elijah is amazing. What’s your ex’s problem?”
I nodded in agreement, feeling oddly relieved to have someone else affirm me without question. It felt good to have someone on my side.
“Miss,” Gabriella said earnestly, “you and I need to figure out a way for Elijah to stay here in Robin Creek for the summer. We can’t let him go from all this”—she gestured at the beautiful spread we’d created in Elijah’s honor—“to a grumpy old man with Pop-Tarts.”
“I appreciate that, Gabriella,” I replied, touched by her kindness. “But I haven’t found a job yet, and I won’t have anyone to watch him while I job hunt.”
“I could switch shifts with somebody at work if we need to. Once you know your schedule,” she tried again.
