Page 16 of A Little Taste
“Don’t swear at my grandson!” Mom pinches my waist hard enough to make me flinch.
“Hellisn’t a swear word.”
“It is, and it’s not like you to speak to Owen that way.” Her forehead wrinkles, and the guilt trip is real.
“Sorry, Froot Loop.”
“Dad!” Owen cries, then stomps away. “I’m getting in the truck.”
He hugs his grandmother’s waist and climbs in the cab, slamming the door.
I exhale a growl, and my mom crosses her arms. Hesitating, I look down at her.
“What’s that all about?” Concern lines her eyes.
“He doesn’t want to be called Froot Loop anymore.”
“I’m surprised he ever did.”
That hurts. “It used to make him laugh. It was something we had after Annemarie…” I can’t even go there.
Compassion fills my mother’s blue eyes. “Aiden.” She reaches up and puts her palm against my chest. “You can’t raise a son and hold onto bitterness. You have to learn to forgive what happened and let go of the past. It’s what I had to do after your father died.”
Taking her hand in mine, I lower it. “I know, Ma. But I’m not the same guy I was then. I never will be.”
“Even so, Owen needs to believe in magic and dreams. It’s what young people live for.”
“He can have his dreams. I’m just not going to tell him things that aren’t true and that will ultimately break his heart. The only magic is what we make ourselves.”
Her lips press into a disapproving line.
Shaking my head, I start for the truck. “I’ve got an early morning, and now I’ve got Britt Bailey to deal with. Like I didn’t have enough on my plate with this spike in vandalism.”
“Don’t go away angry.” She catches my arm.
Turning back, I give her a brief hug. “I’m not angry, Ma. I’m just tired. Been dealing with the Baileys all day.”
“You know, Andrew used to spar with Edna, but at the end of the day, they respected each other. They both loved this town, and they wanted the best for it. In their own ways.”
“Edna’s a kook, and Gwen’s worse. I only hope Britt hasn’t turned out as flaky as them.”
“I remember Britt from your brother’s group of friends. She always seemed like a bright young woman. Adam spoke highly of her.”
“I’m sure he did.” I lean down and kiss the top of her head. “Night, Ma.”
“Take care of yourself, Aiden. I want you to be happy.”
On the short drive back to our place, I apologize for snapping. I also apologize for forgetting about the nickname. Owen says it’s no big deal, and by the time we pull into our driveway, he’s asleep.
I carry him inside, helping him brush his teeth before leading him to his bed, giving him a hug, and tucking his blanket all around him like a cannoli. Hesitating, I study his sleeping profile highlighted by the moon shining through his window. The echoes of childhood still flicker around his eyes, and he’s so peaceful, just like I always want him to be. It tugs at my chest.
In my own room, I shower and change into sleep pants and a tank. Standing in front of my large, empty bed, I think about my mom’s words.I want you to be happy.
I’m happy here with my son and my work, but I know from watching my mother, the day will come when Owen will leave to pursue his own life. What then?
There have been times I’ve wished for someone to share my life with. A real partner to be with me, comfort me, play with me. Then I think about my own experience with trust, love, and having the shit kicked out of me.
What I’m doing here is easy. It’s predictable and safe. I’ve got enough dangerous shit to deal with in my professional life. It’s better to keep things as they are and not let people try to get in my head and tell me what I ought to do.