Page 61 of Unwanted Vows

“Did you meet him?” I ask.

Andrew shakes his head no. “Just read about him. One of those weird factoids I picked up in my teens.”

The bus pulled into a large parking lot, well-lit by giant LED flood lights. Solar panels and windmills seemed to blossom beside the lights.

A large, glass fronted building rose out of the earth like a small hill. Security personnel buzzed about. Austin climbed the steps into the front of the bus. “Come on everyone,” he said. “I’ve called ahead, and the staff are getting rooms ready. Each family unit will have a suite, and there is a buffet being set up in the main lounge. You can eat there, or take food to your room.”

“What do you want to do?” Andrew asks, standing up, and creating a blockade in the aisle so Paul and I could get out.

Suddenly, I feel very tired. “Rooms and bed, I think,” I say, “Unless there is some reason for us to mingle.”

Andrew looks toward Austin. “None that I know of,” Austin replies to the look. “You’ve got to be tired.”

I nod.

Andrew places his hand on my shoulder, and gives it a squeeze. “How about you, Paul. Are you tired?” he asks.

My son yawns. “I could sleep,” he said. “Do you think there is pizza? We don’t have pizza often.”

“Probably,” Austin says. “I’m not sure what got thawed out. It’s kind of short notice.”

He backs down the steps, and everyone follows. We are surrounded by uniformed security. Austin isn’t taking any chances.

Inside, the Bunker turns out to look like a posh hotel. The rugs are thick and deep, conversation seating arrangements are scattered around. A grand escalator scrolled its way to upper floors, while elevators stood at one side for the timid.

A wide door leads to a dining area where tables covered with white linen are set up. All the family members and friends troop into that area. Attendants are handing out boxes for anyone who just wants to pick out their food and go to their rooms, while finding seats for those who want to socialize.

We opt for boxes. None of us want more excitement. I let Andrew and Paul make the food selections. I take charge of drinks, making sure that there is milk and juice for my son.

Our rooms are magnificent. More of the deep pile carpets, two large bedrooms and a huge bath. In one corner is a wet bar furnished with nearly any type of drink you could possibly imagine, plus a cabinet stocked with non-perishable snacks. Next to it is a table covered with a snowy, linen cloth.

Angel and Carousel wait for us. I am glad to see them. I am suddenly ashamed that I had not even thought about the animals.

We put the food on the table, and Paul immediately begins to chow down on a huge slice of pizza. “Can I have soda, Mom?” he asks. “Please?”

I shake my head. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t get any. But they had kiwi-strawberry juice.”

My son looks a little disappointed. “Pizza and root beer go good together,” he says. But he accepts the juice with reasonably good grace. I don’t ask where or when he had root beer and pizza. I feel as if the whole world is sliding out of my grasp.

I sit down at the table, not eating, trying to get a grip on my emotions.

I hear Paul and Andrew say something to each other, then Paul puts an arm around me. “Love you, Mom,” he says. “We’ll take care of you.”

He sounds so grown up, it nearly breaks me. This is my baby, but he is well on his way toward becoming a man. I hug him back. “Love you, too, punkin. Sleep tight.”

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” he says back to me. And just like that, he’s my boy again, with years of growing yet to do.

“May I tuck him in?” Andrew asks.

Paul laughs. “I don’t need tucked in. Night, Mom. Night, Andrew.”

Then, it was just the two of us alone in the room.

A SECURE PLACE

ANDREW

It’s a bit of a slap in the face when Paul says, “I don’t need tucked in.” But I’d probably been intrusive by asking. I knew that his mother spent time with him at the end of the day when we moved into the bungalow. Since then, we’ve not had much time as a family.

---