“Did you tell him I might leave you if he told me about Melissa?”
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“I was afraid of what would happen.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“He still thinks he caused all this.”
The counselor waited.
“Yes,” Daniel said finally.
“He still thinks he caused all this.”
Daniel stared at the card. “I didn’t think he’d take it that way.”
“But he did.”
After a long silence, Daniel nodded.
We agreed neither of us would ask Austin to carry messages or keep secrets about our relationship.
“I shouldn’t have put that on him.”
He glanced at the counselor, then back at the card. For once, he didn’t try to explain what Austin should have understood.
We agreed neither of us would ask Austin to carry messages or keep secrets about our relationship.
As we left, I said, “Austin needs to hear that from you.”
“I know.”
Some evenings he still asks whether Dad will call.
Three months later, Austin and I live in a smaller house. Daniel and I are separated and working through custody arrangements. Austin sees a counselor.
Daniel apologized to him over the phone for asking him to keep the secret. Austin said, “Okay,” and changed the subject.
Some evenings he still asks whether Dad will call.
For weeks afterward, I kept looking at the clock around 3:15, even on days when I picked Austin up myself.
Last Tuesday, he found me unpacking plates.
“Your father made choices, and you told me what happened. He can’t blame you for that.”
“Mom? Do you think Dad hates me?”
I put a plate down. “Why?”
“Because I told you.”
I sat beside him.
“Your father made choices, and you told me what happened. He can’t blame you for that.”
“But if I’d kept quiet, we’d still be together.”
“So I didn’t break our family?”
“Maybe we’d still be living together. But the lies would still exist.”
He thought about that.
“So I didn’t break our family?”
I pulled him close.
“No, sweetheart. You didn’t.”
After a while, he lifted his head.
Yesterday morning, Austin appeared in the kitchen with his backpack.
“Mr. Harris said I did the right thing when I asked him to call you.”
“He was right.”
“Even though everything changed?”
I brushed his hair from his forehead.
“Even then.”
“Mom, can I take the bus again?”
Yesterday morning, Austin appeared in the kitchen with his backpack.
“Mom, can I take the bus again?”
I glanced at his phone.
“Text me when you get on.”
He grinned. “Mom, seriously?”
On the bus!
“Seriously.”
He hugged me and headed out.
At 3:15, my phone buzzed.
Austin: On the bus!
I replied, See you soon, sweetheart.
