A Missing Heart(25)

“So, she’s seeking help. That’s a good thing. We all need a little help sometimes,” Mom spits out after a long pause.

“Yeah, I actually wasn’t aware of this until today, so I know nothing about this person or why she evidently goes to see this therapist twice a week.”

“Twice a week?” Mom asks through a nervous laugh. “Sweetie, most people don’t seek help like that multiple times a week unless there is something truly amiss.” Mom places her hand over her mouth in thought. “Oh, I feel awful. She must be going through something horrible.”

“I’m well aware.” I can’t stand that she’s hidden this little fact very nicely, along with everything else she’s hiding.

“I’m sure you have, but I have to check…have you asked her about it?”

“Of course I have, but getting information from Tori is as easy as cracking some governmental code on a computer that no one knows exists. So, yeah.”

“Well, it must be something truly awful, then. Poor thing,” Mom says, rocking Gavin gently in her arms. “Maybe you should try asking her in a different way. Tell her how much it hurts you to watch your wife in pain. Be honest.”

“Ma, spare me of your ‘Mom-Card’ right now. I’ve been nothing but honest, and I’ve basically begged her to tell me what’s going on.”

She presses her lips firmly together and raises her eyebrows, letting me know she still owns the ‘Mom-Card,’ but will keep her thoughts to herself for the moment. “The directions are on the bottle, the pharmacist said,” she explains, nodding toward the prescription she just handed me.

I take the bottle out of the bag and read the label. I’ve never given Gavin medication before, and I’m now reading the possible side-effects. Jesus. No wonder some parents are anti-antibiotics. This caution paper is basically telling me he can end up back in the hospital from this shit. “This is a little scary,” I say.

“Don’t read the warnings,” Mom says. “Every antibiotic says the same thing. He’ll be just fine.”

I fall back onto the couch next to Mom and use the little syringe thing that came with the antibiotics. Gavin looks puzzled, then takes it like a champ and even looks like he might like the taste too. He hasn’t had anything but breast milk and formula, so I can understand the confusion there.

“Okay, you’re on your way to recovery, little man.” Gavin gives me his little side smile, as if he knows what I’m talking about.

“You are a good dad, AJ. I’m not going to lie…I had my fears and doubts.”

I recoil at her remark. “Thanks a lot, Ma.”

“Grammy is losing her mind in her old age,” I say in a cooing voice to Gavin.

Mom stands up and smooths out her pant legs. “AJ. Don’t be a tool.”

“A tool? Did you just call me, your son, a tool? Where did you even learn that word? Are you taking some hip-hop street slang for grannies class?”

Rather than laugh at my joke, she leans over and pinches my cheek as hard as she can, like a that’s going to leave a mark kind of pinch. “You’ve always been such a special boy, AJ,” she laughs. “I better get home to start dinner for your father.”

I sigh loudly to acknowledge the sarcasm in her statement. “Thank you for bringing the prescription by.”

“Of course, honey,” she says with a warm smile. “Oh, will you be at breakfast on Sunday morning?”

“I’ll do my best.” That’s what I say every week when she asks me.

“That answer doesn’t work on me anymore,” she says, pulling her purse over her shoulder. “It would be really nice to have everyone at our family breakfast. It’s been months since you’ve shown up.” Four to be exact.

“I get what you’re puttin’ out there,” I tell her.

“Ya dig?” she responds.

“Oh God. Seriously, who are you? And what are you watching on TV?”

She leaves in a fit of laughter, and it’s nice to see Mom less concerned with everyone’s lives and more concerned with her evident midlife crisis. Unfortunately, it seems as though I’m experiencing a midlife crisis a few years too early right now also. My entire twenties have been like a midlife crisis.



Given the time I had since Mom left until now—dinnertime—with no word from Tori, I decide to straighten up the house a bit. The last thing I want to do is get into anything with her tonight. That is, if she actually comes home. With all of these firsts, I wouldn’t put that first by her right this second.

I don’t know how Hunter did this for so long—the single dad thing. I love this kid with all my heart, but the whole crying, eating, and pooping thing gets old after the tenth round in a day. I’m wiped out, I need a break, and I can already tell Gavin is ready for a party tonight. I realize I should have been there more for Hunter when Olive was this age. I had no idea what he was going through beyond his heartache. I offered to help him whenever I could, but I wasn’t as there for him as I could have been. I suck. The only thing I want right now is for Hunter to barge in, throw me a beer, and keep me company while I figure out how to save my life from spinning down the drain.

The sun is gone, the street lights are out, and there are finally headlights pulling into the driveway. I’m pretty sure it’s Tori, but I would be happier if I got my wish and it was Hunter. The lights aren’t from a truck, though.