Page 50 of First Surrender

Jackson: I’m in the area, I’ll stop home.

I look around at the chaos that I’ve created. It’s probably the messiest his house has ever been. I think about tidying up quickly, but I’d rather see the shock on his face.

Only twenty minutes later he strolls in through the front door in his full uniform. I hate to admit how appealing he looks, I avert my eyes so he doesn’t catch me staring. I can’t find a cop attractive, it goes against my moral code.

“Wow. It smells good in here.” He doesn’t say anything about the mess in the kitchen or the dirty dishes. He plops down on the same bar stool he sat on last night and glances around at everything I’ve prepared.

“Do you want a plate?” I ask hesitantly. I assumed he’d pack it up and leave again. I wasn’t expecting him to eat here, with me.

“Yes.” His eyes haven’t left the spread laid out on the counter.

I dish up a seasoned chicken breast, roasted Parmesan Brussels sprouts, and a butter garlic orzo. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I kept it simple.”

“This is simple?” He asks, astonished.

“Um. Yeah, for me. I can make all kinds of stuff. Do you have a preference?”

“No, I like anything.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll get more creative if you don’t mind but I’ll mix in some of Dec’s favorites too. He usually asks me to pack his lunch for school.”

Jackson digs into the plate I handed over and I watch in ample fascination as he eats. I’ve always loved seeing the reaction to my food. I get high on creating food that people can’t get enough of. The way Jackson is eating, I’m not even sure if he’s come up for air. It makes me giggle.

That’s when his head snaps up to look at me. His eyes blink a few times but he just stares at me.

“What?”

“I have never heard you make that sound.”

“You mean, laugh?”

“It was more than that. It was happy.”

I turn my back to him and start working on packing Dec’s lunch for tomorrow, ignoring his comment. I can’t seem to wipe the smile off of my face though.

* * *

Our routine continues for a week. I spend my days in the kitchen, preparing fresh meals and packing lunches. Some days, Jackson leaves without his lunch and comes home to eat it.Some days, he doesn’t. He’s always home for dinner, though, and we’ve all been eating together at the table.

The new routine is different for me but it’s been relatively painless. Aside from being in the kitchen, Jackson and I skirt around each other. We only seem to speak to each other if I’m cooking. He’s either watching me cook or he’s eating, but the kitchen has turned into neutral territory.

Dec’s made himself right at home. The bus picks him up and drops him off at the end of the driveway now. I make him do his homework while I cook dinner and he usually convinces Jackson to play with him after he eats.

It’s a weight off my shoulders not needing to entertain him constantly, but I’m still worried about how all this will affect him. He’s been bounced around to different homes. His dad is out of jail. His mom is dead. I still lie awake at night and worry.

I guess this is what it feels like to be a mother. I can’t imagine that it’s going to get easier.

I’m sitting on the couch, scrolling on Jackson’s iPad to order groceries when a sale ad pops up for feminine hygiene products and my stomach drops like a rock. My world is suddenly tilting on its axis.

I never bought the tampons the day that I ran into Jackson’s mom. I should have needed them by now.

I stand up slowly and move down the hall on wobbly legs. When I reach the computer room, I lean my head in. “Hey, I need to run to the store. Is it okay if Dec stays with you?”

“It’s late, you don’t want us to come?” Jackson asks in his completely normal, hasn’t just experienced a mind-numbing realization, voice. They’re building a LEGO rocket.

“No, I’ll be quick. Dec, behave.”

* * *

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