My heart lifts. My God, I made the better choice. That asshole or the brilliant little boy who loves with his entire being? Who offers me the last bite of his ice cream cone, even if it’s his favorite flavor? Who is thorough, curious, and unselfish?
The world is light again; it’s better when it’s just Zack and me.
“We can get a swingset if we save up enough,” I tell him. “There are yard sales we can look at. We might find a sand table. A kiddie pool. One of those little slides like Nana has?”
Zack squeals and launches himself into the grass, running in his pajamas, stopping to do those happy hops that turn my heart into a puddle of mush.
Madelyn: Tell your mom she can visit any time. There’s a nice hotel in town. She can take Zack to the beach and the park. I’ll be happy to see Linda.
Madelyn: But you? You stay the hell away from my son. Stay away from me. You’re not a good father, and you turned out to be a shitty husband. I feel bad for Linda because she raised such a crappy man, which is probably why she’s sobbing. She’s lost her chance to try for a decent human being with Zack. Have the day you deserve, and you are officially blocked. If there’s some emergency, have your mother call.
“Mama, play!”
“In a minute, baby,” I say, then tap on my screen, blocking Eli.
Good. That’s probably the last I’ll hear from him. Maybe this will be the wake-up call he needs to realize how lucky he is to have a son to love—if he wanted to.
“Is it a beach day?”
“Well, after I do some work, little dude. But right now, it’s tag time. I’m gonna catch you!” I say, hands outstretched.
Zack squeals and races through our yard, small joys making a huge impact on my sweet little guy.
I’m not going to let Eli’s idiocy and his cruel words bother me anymore. It’s over. Done with. Not worth thinking about.
Okay. I lied. I’m thinking about it.
One part in particular, as I drive to the lake in my “Mom swimsuit,” a very modest tankini. Purple stretchy swim tank top. My once-flat stomach puffs up into one smooth curve and meets a little hanging poof in my swim shorts. If Eli were here, he’d be quick to point out that I never got my pre-baby body back. As I look at my flip-flop-clad feet, I can’t help but notice how my thick thighs kiss, and the seat is telling me that my black stretchy swim shorts are losing the battle to cover all the junk in my trunk.
“Some men like curves,” I mumble.
“What men?” Zack asks.
Gosh darn baby parrot with the hearing of a hawk.“Nothing, sweetie.”
“We don’t know any men.”
I wince. Zack sees me, my parents, and Eli’s mom. A few friends of mine who have kids, when our schedules mesh. The husbands and fathers are a rarity. Part of me feels guilty that Zack just lost his father figure—thanks to me.
No, thanks to Eli being himself. Come on, Madelyn. No pity parties.
“We know Grandpa, silly. And you’ll make new friends here next fall when you start at the preschool. It’s called Little Dragons. Isn’t that a cool name?”
Zack thinks. “Are there dragons there?”
“I... Actually, I don’t know. Could be. You never know in Harmony Glen.”
“You could meet new friends, too.” Zack kicks his feet excitedly as we pull into the parking area. “Lake! Tomorrow, can we take the bike?”
“Maybe. Mommy has to work tomorrow for most of the day. But, you’ll have our own ‘little park’ to play in,” I remind him. “On Monday, we’ll check out the library. New books.”
“New books!” Zack wiggles out of the seat as soon as I unbuckle him. “Can we run?”
“Not today. We have to get all of our beach things. Mommy’s going to have to start keeping a beach bag packed and ready to go in the car or the bike trailer.” Going to the Jersey Shore used to be an annual thing. Living near this lake with its perfect sandy-pebbly beach is going to be new—and wonderful.
I did the right thing, I tell myself for the hundredth time. I did the right thing getting Zack into a nice little town like this one—and away from Linda’s constant guilt-tripping, and Eli’s hit-or-miss involvement with his mother as a mouthpiece. With a grunt, I put Zack on my hip, sling the canvas collapsible camping chair over my shoulder, and grab the tote bag that has shovels, towels, and snacks.
“I’ve got this,” I mutter, hitting the button on my car remote that shuts the trunk.
