by McLean, Jay
Now I know what Jay-Z and Alicia Keys were going on about in “Empire State of Mind.” New York really is a concrete jungle. But these streets don’t make me feel brand new, and the lights sure don’t inspire me. They make me anxious and itch to get home. Don’t get me wrong; I can definitely see the attraction and why some people love it. Maybe a few years ago, I would’ve been one of those people. But I’ve changed and so have my priorities, and this place—it just isn’t for me. “It’s not him I’m worried about,” I mumble, rubbing at the back of my neck in irritation as someone stands in front of me, blocking my view. “There are too many people here,” I say, looking around us. All it takes is one second for someone to snatch him up and—
“Do you want to go?” she asks, breaking into my thoughts.
“No.”
Mia sighs and doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Look, I know it’s not your house or the farm, but this is our home,” she says quietly.
I don’t know how she’s able to read my mind the way she does. I tear my gaze away from Benny and focus on the girl beside me. “I know.”
“You hate it here.” It’s not a question.
“It’s not that I hate it. It’s just… it’s so different from what I’m used to. It’s not the way I was raised, and I guess—”
“You want to raise your kid the same way you were?”
I shrug. “Is that so bad?”
Mia frowns. “It is when it’s impossible.”
And this, right here, is what we’ve spent the entire weekend avoiding. I look back at Benny, trying to find a way out of this conversation because I’m not ready. Mia is, apparently. “This is our life. I have a job here, an apartment, a support system that goes beyond my dad and Tammy,” she says. After a breath, she adds, “My therapists are here…” Her voice cracks, and I can’t avoid looking at her now, my heart aching at her admission.
“I know,” I say. And I do, which only makes things worse.
Mia and I have taken that next step in our relationship, and I don’t want to take that back. Physically, we’ve gone as far as we can without going all the way. And emotionally, we’ve grown closer than we ever have. But none of that means shit if we can’t make it work. Benny is the priority. He always will be. And for us to give him the life he deserves, he needs his mom, and he needs her to be healthy, and thanks to Logan, I understand the importance of a solid support system, so I know I can’t be the only one to give her what she needs.
Even knowing all this, still, I say, “My family could help us.” It’s stupid to say, and I don’t know why I say it. My family doesn’t even fucking know about him, besides Lucy, and maybe that’s my problem. Maybe I need support with this whole thing, and I don’t have anyone.
Mia doesn’t respond. She has nothing to say, at least not anything positive.
“It’s not yours!” I hear coming from the playground. Some teenage punk is standing over Benny, yelling at him, and I’m on my feet before I know what’s happening. Mia runs ahead of me, taking Benny in her arms. “What’s going on?” Mia asks.
The punk doesn’t look at her. He looks at me—all the way up and into my eyes. Whatever look I give him has him stepping back. He lifts a yellow dump truck between us. “Look, your kid tried to take my brother’s toy. That’s all.”
It’s only now I notice a kid around Benny’s age standing behind his brother with tears in his eyes. “You can’t just take people’s toys,” Mia says, the same time Benny shouts, “I’m not his kid!”
Well, fuck. Before I can say anything, Mia says, “You need to say sorry, Benny.”
Benny groans, then takes a step forward, standing between us. The little kid’s brother moves out of the way so Benny can talk to him. “I’m sorry,” Benny mumbles, but there’s nothing genuine in his tone.
“Say it and mean it,” Mia warns, squatting down beside him.
Benny’s shoulders drop. “I’m sorry I took your truck,” he says. “I didn’t know it was yours.” And then, like the champ he is, he offers the kid his fist for a bump, just like his papa.
The kid looks up at his older brother, who motions for him to go ahead.
“I’m sorry,” Mia says to the teenager. “He doesn’t really hang around kids his age…” She trails off, as if this is explanation enough. A moment later, Mia grasps onto Benny’s shoulders, leading him away. “Why would you take something that’s not yours?” she asks him, frustrated.
Benny shrugs. “I didn’t know it wasn’t mine.”
“Not everything in this world is yours, Benny. You’re too spoiled,” she says through a sigh. “Maybe you shouldn’t get that ice cream now.”
“What?” He spins to face her. “You said I could have ice cream!”
“But then you did something you shouldn’t have, and that’s the consequence.”
“I didn’t know I couldn’t!” he screams, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him like this.
I say, because I feel like I need to say something, “Benny, you shouldn’t talk to your mother like that.”
His little eyes narrow on mine, and then he bursts out in tears. “You said we could have ice cream!” He pushes Mia, hard, and I have to catch her when she falls back a step.
“Benny!” I scold, and his eyes widen, right before he bolts.
I run after him, picking him up quickly. He’s kicking and screaming, and I’m trying to calm him down, but he won’t stop crying, and his little fists keep thumping at my chest, trying to hurt me, trying to push me away.
“Let’s go,” Mia hisses, leading us to a cab. He doesn’t stop on the ride back to their apartment, and he’s still going as we step inside. For the first time since he started, I release him. He runs straight to his room and slams the door. Mia winces at the sound, her hands gripping the back of the couch, chest rising and falling with her harsh, sharp breaths.
“I’ve never seen—” I start.
“It happens,” she murmurs, and when she looks at me, her eyes clouded, I die a little on the inside. “It’s not about the stupid ice cream,” she says, almost like a confession. “He has no friends his age, so he gets anxious being around other kids, and he doesn’t know how to act or behave, and I can tell it gets to him, you know? But he won’t talk to me about it. He just shuts down, and then he’ll have these—”
“Outbursts?” I cut in, and she nods, gives me a knowing look.
My son has outbursts.
Like me.
“I’ve tried the picture thing, you know? The three words thing your mom did for you, but he doesn’t—” I trap her against my chest, holding her tight. The warmth of her pent-up breath floods my beating flesh. “I don’t know what to do when he’s like this,” she cries. “I can’t hold him the way you did, and he just keeps going and going with me. I end up with bruises—”
“Mia…”
“It doesn’t happen often,” she says, as if trying to justify it. “Maybe once every few months.” She pulls away, her eyes pleading when they meet mine. “Do you think I should do something—take him to see someone?”
“I don’t know,” I tell her honestly, my mind racing. In my eyes, in my mind, Benny’s perfect.
She steps out of my arms and wipes at her eyes. “I’m scared they’re going to slap a label on him, and he’s going to have that stigma his entire life, and it’s not the worst thing that could happen. I know that. But what if they put him on meds and he’s no longer my Bennett?” She shakes her head. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m dumping all this on you.”
“Because I’m his dad?” I say quietly. “And you shouldn’t have to make these choices alone.”
She swallows loudly before glancing at Benny’s door. The crying has stopped. “Benny?” she calls out.
When he doesn’t respond, we make our way over to his door. I knock. “Benny?”
Still nothing.
Slowly, quietly, I open the door, and there’s our son, asleep on the floor of his blue bedroom. “He must’ve worn
himself out,” Mia says, the giggle escaping her such a contrast to what we were feeling only minutes ago.
I step inside and carry him to his bed while Mia pulls the covers down. I put him in the middle of his bed, and without saying a word to each other, Mia and I get in on either side of him. Mia strokes his hair, causing his breath to hitch. His eyes open, just slightly, and he says, his little voice barely audible, “I’m sorry, Mama.” And then he lets out a sigh, falls back asleep. His muscles relax enough that his fisted hands open, revealing a rock he’d been gripping on to. “What’s this?” Mia asks, taking it from him.
My eyes squint at what she’s holding, and then my heart soars right out of my chest. “It’s amethyst. I gave it to him the second time I met him.”
Mia pouts.
I run a hand over my face, try to make sense of the last hour. I want him to know I’m his dad. That I, too, had outbursts and that it’s not his fault. I don’t want him to carry that guilt, that burden. “When can we tell him?” I ask, at the same time she says, “You can’t see yourself living here, can you?”
For a long moment, neither of us respond to either question. We just stare at each other, hundreds of unanswered questions floating between us like a kaleidoscope—the same mirrored images reflecting our hopes... hopes that are forever changing.
Chapter Seventy-Five
Mia
“This is so cool!” Benny gasps, walking into Leo’s temporary apartment. It’s Saturday morning, and we’d just flown in. Instead of going to the farm this weekend, we’re staying with Leo.
Leo had been the one to mention it since the rock and mineral museum he wanted to take Benny to was near his apartment. So for tonight, we’re staying here, and we’re “camping.” When Leo found out that Benny had never been camping—never even seen a tent in real life—he had to make it happen. Now Benny’s walking around the tent set up in Leo’s living room, his eyes almost as wide as his smile. “Can I go inside?” Benny asks in excitement, kicking off his shoes.
Leo drops down on his knees to unzip the tent. “Go for it!”
Benny squeals with excitement when he steps inside. “Which one is my bed?”
“The blue sleeping bag,” Leo says through a chuckle.
I lower myself to sit beside Leo and look inside. There are two sleeping bags, one smaller compared to the one beside it. There’s a small foldable table between the heads of them with books stacked up, and on the edges of the tent are all different rocks. There are flashlights on each of the pillows, a box of glow sticks, a sketchpad, and crayons. “You went all out, huh?”
Leo nods, smiling as he watches our son flick the flashlight on and off. He closes the zipped opening of the tent just long enough to kiss me quickly. “Hi,” he says, his grin widening. “How are you?”
“Good.”
He nuzzles my neck. “I missed you bad these last couple weeks.” I giggle, feeling the butterflies swarm through my stomach. Only Leo’s ever made me feel like this—these water tower feelings—and even though we still haven’t done it, I can’t get enough of him.
“Me, too.” I laugh when he gnaws gently on my exposed collarbone. “Stop it!”
“Stop what?” Benny calls out. “What are you guys doing?”
I push Leo away. After New York, we decided it would be safer not to show too much intimacy around Benny. We didn’t want to confuse him, and since Leo and I are confused enough as it is when it comes to us and our future, adding Benny’s emotions to it might just destroy us.
“Nothing,” Leo says, parting the opening again. “So this is just a trial, okay, bud? And if you can stay the entire night in the tent, then once I finish at the academy we can go on a real camping trip in the woods.” He glances at me, grimacing. “If it’s okay with your mama.”
Benny crawls headfirst into his sleeping bag. “How long?” he asks.
“How long what?”
“Until you finish.”
“I finish in one month,” Leo tells him.
“How many years is that?”
Leo chuckles. “It’s four weeks.”
“How many years?”
“It’s less than a year.”
Under the blanket, Benny shifts until his head pops out. “How many days?”
“28 or so…”
“So how many years?”
Laughing under my breath, I poke my head inside, take a better look, and pout dramatically. “Where am I going to sleep?”
“In my bed,” Leo answers. “This is a boys’ camping trip.” When I scowl at him, he shrugs. “Sorry.” He’s not. Not even a little bit.
“Yeah, Mama!” Benny laughs. “Boys only!” He sits up, his legs still buried in the sleeping bag. Then he looks around, his eyebrows slowly dipping. “Where are all the snacks?”
“The snacks,” Leo repeats in a whisper. “Dang it.”
“You don’t have to—” I start, but Leo’s already on his feet, grabbing his phone, keys, and wallet from the coffee table. “Leo, you don’t have to go now,” I try to convince. “We still have to go to the museum.”
“But snacks,” he says. He shakes his head, his brow furrowed. “How the heck did I forget the snacks? They’re pivotal to a boys’ camping trip.”
“We can get them later!”
He already has the front door open. “Any requests?” It’s like he doesn’t hear me at all.
“S’mores!” Benny yells.
“Right.” Leo nods. “So fire of some kind.” His eyes do that distant thing they do when he’s deep in thought. “I’ll be back.” He closes the door, and I sigh, look into the tent again.
Benny’s grin is so big I can’t help but do the same. He pats the spot next to him. “Come in, Mama.”
“Are you sure? I thought it was boys only?”
“You can come until Leo gets back. I won’t tell him.”
I laugh and crawl into the small space. I go straight for the table—more books about rocks and minerals. I didn’t even know they made this many.
Leo told me that his sister owns a bookstore, so he gets her to order them for him at a discounted rate. He’d always grown up around books, and while his parents didn’t spoil them with material things, there was never a limit when it came to books. As kids, they would use the allowance they earned from doing chores around the house to buy the things they wanted—toys or outings—but his mom would always pay for books because you can’t put a value on education, imagination, and time and space travel—which is what books are to Leo.
He told me about day trips to the city with his mom and sister, just the three of them, and they’d do nothing but go to new and used bookstores. They’d come home with so many bags of books, his dad would have to carry them in. And then he and his sister would sit at the kitchen table while his mom made hot chocolate, and they’d go through all their purchases. Lucy would pile them neatly, alphabetize them and sniff the pages, while Leo—to his sister’s dismay—would dramatically crack their spines, write his name on the title pages, and—just to really annoy her—dog-ear the pages.
As he got older, he realized he didn’t get through them as quickly as his sister did, so he didn’t go on as many outings with them, opting to stay home and actually read the ones he had. He said that of all the things he’d like to teach Benny, his love for getting lost in another world is high up on the list, along with woodworking, and you know… being a decent human being.
He’s been talking about Benny a lot lately, and not just the cute things he does or the adventures they go on together. He talks about his hopes and dreams for Benny, and sometimes, I wonder what he sees. Specifically, where he envisions this future of ours.
Last week, he asked what my plans were for Benny going to school next year. I sent him the link to two schools in New York that I’d been looking at. One is a public school. The other is a school with a wait list so long we put Benny’s name down a few days after he was born. After perusing both websites, Leo responded with: Where’s all the sp
ace for him to play?
And that’s when we both realized that we couldn’t hold off on The Talk much longer. He’s just under a month from graduating the academy, so it was time to—as he put it—adult the fuck up. This weekend, we planned to make it all about Benny. In two weeks, when I return, we’ll sit and we’ll talk. We’ll talk until decisions are made.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and it’s a text from Leo:
Leo: Your ass. Those jeans. Holy shit, Mia.
He follows this up with emojis of a tongue and a peach.
I scoff.
“What’s wrong, Mama?” Benny asks, taking a book from the stack and opening it to the title page. He grabs a crayon from the box and starts writing his name.
“Nothing,” I say. “Leo’s just being silly.”
He giggles, halfway through the E when he says, “Leo’s not silly. He’s the bestest and strongest man in my world.”
My lips part to reply, but the sudden knot in my throat prevents it.
He’s finished with the first N when he stops, looks up at me. “Mama?” His lips are pursed, his dark eyebrows almost meeting in the middle. “Is it okay if I tell Leo that I love him?”
A ragged breath falls from my lips, and I release the air in my lungs slowly. “Yeah, bud,” I choke out. “If that’s how you feel.”
“I do,” he says, going back to his task, completely unaware of my current emotional state.
“Then you should tell him.” I look away, hoping he doesn’t notice the tears in my eyes.
“Done!” Benny says, showing me his wonky name written in blue.
“That’s great—” I break off when there’s a knock on the door. I look at Benny. He looks at me, shrugging. “Maybe Silly Leo forgot something,” I mutter, crawling out of the tent.
I start to open the door, saying, “Silly Leo, did you…” My words die in the air when Mr. Preston stands just on the other side, his large build almost filling the frame.