Page 97 of Teach Me

Charlie sighed, his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth.

“I don’t wanna pray anymore,” he said. “Mom just makes me.”

I chewed on my cheek for a moment, trying to figure out how to approach the subject.

When Charlie had spit out, I waved my son over as Caden closed his door to go to sleep.

“What do you mean you don’t want to pray?” I asked, sinking down to the floor to chat with him.

Charlie frowned and plopped down beside me, sighing like he was put out by having this conversation.

“I just don’t want to,” he said.

“But why don’t you want to? What changed?”

He seemed to think for a minute, but finally answered, “I don’t know if I believe in God.”

I nodded.

This was definitely not a conversation I was ready to have with him, but sometimes things came up and they needed to be dealt with. Kids needed to know you were there when they needed you, not when it was convenient for you.

“That’s fair,” I agreed. “Have you talked to your mom about it?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

I gave him a gentle smile and stroked the hair out of his eyes.

“Well, whether you pray or not is between you and God. I’m not going to force you, and neither is your mom. You know how much that stuff means to her, so you should maybe have a talk with her about how you feel. She’ll be understanding, and you won’t hurt her feelings, bud.”

Charlie looked at me with gratitude in his boyish eyes.

“But,” I put up a finger as a caveat. “As you’re exploring what you believe and what you don’t believe, give the God thing just as much of a chance as you give everything else. Deal?”

He nodded and put his arms around me.

God, he didn’t hug me much anymore, and I cherished every moment of this closeness with him.

“Thanks Dad,” he said, then stood and glanced Mia’s way.

Unexpectedly, he put his arms around her waist and hugged her quickly, then hurried to bed.

Standing up, I rubbed at my aching temples before turning to Mia.

“I hate having conversations like that without their mom. The whole dual but separate parenting thing sucks.”

I took her hand in mine and led the way across the long hallway to my bedroom.

“I thought you handled it like a champ,” she said, squeezing my hand in hers. “You’re a really amazing dad, Owen.”

I scoffed.

“Nah, I was a shit dad for many years. It’s only recently, after the divorce when I started to have them by myself, that I realized just what a shit dad I really was. It’s been better since, but Charlie remembers me never being there. He remembers my long hours and my face shoved into a screen at the times when I rarely was home.”

“Sure, but you’re a busy man—”

I shook my head to stop her right there.

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