Clay wouldn’t have used those words but at least Judd is being supportive. Clay says, “You don’t have to make any decisions right now, Brae. It’s okay to just sit with this for a while, see how you feel.”
“What do you mean?” says Braedon. “What kind of decisions?”
Clay hesitates. He’s not sure of the best way to answer that question. Sue sees his hesitation and the wanting in Braedon’s eyes.
“Well,” says Sue, “you can contact her if you want to. Tell her about yourself. Your life. See if she responds. She might. She might not. You could do that now or anytime in the future. Or maybe never. It’s up to you.”
“I don’t know…” says Braedon. “I don’t know what I want to do.”
“I think talking to a therapist might be a good idea,” says Mei, “before you make any big decisions.”
“That’s a good idea,” says Carol. “Because if you contact your mom, you might not like the answer you get. Or you might not get any answer at all. And you need to be prepared for that possibility. A therapist can help with that.”
Braedon lifts his head and scans the room. In his heart he knows that the love from these people is enough to make up for the rejection by his mother. He can’t articulate that, not even in his thoughts, but he feels it and it gives him strength. “Yeah…” says Braedon. “Maybe… I don’t know what to do about talking to a therapist either.”
“You don’t have to know what to think,” says Clay. “Just sit with this for a while. There’s no rush because now you know your mom’s name. You know her husband’s name. Her kids’ names. If she moves or if her family gets off social media, you’ll still be able to find her. You may want to wait until you’re older. Or not. But I agree with Mei, you should talk to a therapist.”
“What do they do?” says Braedon.
“Therapists?” says Clay. “Mostly they listen. You talk about what’s going on in your life and your feelings and they help you sort through it all.”
“Have you ever been to one?” says Braedon.
Clay feels Judd’s eyes on him, as if an admission of seeing a therapist might show weakness. Even though Judd’s girlfriend is the one who suggested the idea. Clay decides to ignore his father’s opinion—what’s new?—and tell Braedon the truth. At least about seeing a therapist. “Yes, Brae. Lots of times.”
“Really?”
“Sue brought me to one after Grandma Pam died.”
“She did?” says Judd.
“I ran it by you first,” says Sue. “You said no, so I took matters into my own hands.”
“I had no idea,” says Judd.
“It was very helpful,” says Clay.
“Really?” says Braedon.
“Yep. And when I played professional soccer, most teams wanted the players to see a sports psychologist so our brains could be as fit as our bodies.”
Judd’s phone rings. He gets up, walks out of the living room, through the dining room, and into the kitchen where he takes the call. “Hey, Mike. What’s up?”
“I just pulled over Wags Becker. Followed him out of Knut’s and he was swerving all over the place.”
“Yeah?” says Judd as he lowers his voice to just above a whisper.
“First thing I do is ask if he’s been drinking,” says Mike. “Wags says he’s had a couple. Maybe three. But he swears he’s fine. So I know he’s drunk as hell.”
“Yep,” says Judd.
“The only thing that can screw up this bust is me. So I play it by the book and ask for license and registration.”
“That’s the way to do it,” says Judd. “Hey, Mike, can we talk about this in the morning? I’m with my grandson right now.”
“I really think you’ll want to hear this tonight,” says Mike.
“All right. Make it as quick as you can, then.”
