Soaring (Magdalene #2)(135)

“Sleep tight,” I said as I moved toward my room, snagging my phone off the kitchen counter on the way there.

“Yeah. You too,” Auden called back.

I got behind closed door and instantly called Mickey.

Within a couple of rings, just like Mickey, he picked up.

I told him the good news, that Auden and Olympia were open to meet him.

I did not tell him my ex referred to him to my children as a Neanderthal. He’d done that to Mickey’s face and Mickey didn’t like it. He didn’t need to get upset about Conrad saying it to my kids.

Then I told him the not-so-good news about the intense conversation I just had with my son.

I ended this with, “What do you think that was about?”

“Haven’t met your boy, babe, don’t know anything about him but what you’ve told me. But if my dad did my mom the way his dad did his, I may have gotten caught up in the hurricane and its aftermath, but when things settled down, I’d be thinkin’. Men look to our fathers to show us the man we should be. He’s at an age where that’s gonna be some intense scrutiny. And I’m thinkin’ he doesn’t like what he’s seein’.”

“I don’t want that for him,” I said uneasily.

“Could just be him mannin’ up,” Mickey added. “He’s of an age to do that too. His mom is dating. She got f*cked over. He wants you to know he’s lookin’ out for you. I’d do that for my mom too. Any good son would look after his mother.”

I liked that idea better.

“He said the f-word, Mickey.”

Mickey started chuckling.

I didn’t find it funny.

“Twice,” I stated.

“Bet he says it a lot more around his buds.”

This did not make me happy and I looked to the door.

“Babe, advice,” he went on. “Seriously. Listen to this shit. Back off. He’s findin’ the man he’s gonna be. You gotta give him space to let him.”

“He should respect his mother and not curse,” I declared.

“Do you honestly give a shit about cursing?” he asked incredulously.

“You doing it as a grown man, no. Auden doing it at sixteen, yes.”

“You call him on it?”

“Carefully.”

“Then make it be known that in your house and to you and your daughter, he shows you that respect. After that, back off. That is, unless he keeps doin’ it.”

“Right,” I mumbled.

“Brady Bunch action is definitely gonna take time,” he stated, and I knew he meant by this that it would be only him for dinner. We’d do the blending of kids at a later date, which was a relief. “So this dinner has gotta happen next week after the kids go to Rhiannon. Scheduled off at the house on Tuesday. See if they can make it then.”

“I’ll talk to them, Mickey. Do you like coleslaw?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because Auden placed his order for dinner with the man Mom’s dating and it includes coleslaw. I already know you like barbeque chicken, which is the other menu item he selected.”

“Totally a sixteen-year-old boy. His mom tells him she’s got a new man, he’s worried about what he’s gonna eat.”

That made me smile and settled other things inside me.

Mickey kept talking, “But you don’t have a grill.”

“Slow roasted barbeque pulled chicken,” I told him.

“Shit, it’s after ten and now I’m hungry.”

And another smile.

“You goin’ to bed?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Wish that was happening beside me,” he muttered.

And with that, everything settled inside me.

“Me too,” I told him quietly.

“Monday,” he said.

That seemed a long way away.

“Monday,” I agreed.

“Right, Amy. Lettin’ you go. Sleep good, baby.”

“You too, Mickey. ’Night.”

“’Night.”

We rang off and I got ready for bed.

Once in it, I tossed and turned and didn’t sleep.

I wanted to believe that the fierceness coming from my son was a protective instinct for me. I would even like to know if Mickey was right about Auden looking at his father and wondering if he’d become that man.

But I didn’t think it was either.

I thought it was something else.

Something that drove both my kids from their father to me.

Something I was going to have to find a way to figure out.

For them.

Not me.

* * * * *

“I’m not liking this,” I said two days later, standing in Jake’s office at the gym, watching through the window, Jake and Mickey in the ring sparring.

“I know,” Josie, standing next to me replied. “Actually, I don’t know. Jake never loses. To anyone. Even Mickey, who’s quite formidable, but still, he’s only second best in the league. Jake was once a professional boxer so you shouldn’t feel any less of Mickey. Jake fought pay-per-view. He was quite something. Thus, I can’t say I know how it feels that Mickey’s losing.”

I couldn’t even think of Mickey losing. And I didn’t suspect anyone was losing since they were only sparring with a throng of young men from age eleven to eighteen standing around watching.