Page 119 of Back to Willow

The worker gulps and speaks before I even have the chance to ask what the hell Jake did that’s worse than leaving a kid behind, “Well, now he’s back with his father, I’m going back to work. Have a nice evening, sir.”

Crouching down to his height, I ask, “You good, bud?” My hands cradle his cheek for a moment to take a good look at his face. He nods with a smug smirk, and I sigh in relief, trying to expel the guilt that’s biting at me from within.

How could I have forgotten about him?

He is relaxed—too relaxed—and the smile he draws out has me on edge, even if it makes him look cuter with those chubby cheeks filled out. “Don’t worry,” he tells me, unbothered. “I won’t tell Mum if you don’t.”

With that, he holds my hand tight and starts walking, forcing me to follow him, slightly dazed.

I’m so fucked. Because being a responsible adult and a parent is harder than I was convincing myself it is. One thing I know for sure is I don’t “got this”. Not at all.

Not even close.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Willow

Today’sthelastdayof classes. All exams and projects are officially over until early February, and it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Now, I can focus on work, Dylan, and myself for a month and a half.I need this.

That argument with Liam two weeks ago was a turning point for me. I’d realised before that I needed therapy, but that night made me finally act on it. The following morning, I found a therapist close by, and scheduled an appointment.

I’ve been going twice a week ever since. Today, I have another session, the fourth one.

It’s been way more helpful than I thought.

“Hello, Willow,” my therapist, Dr Helen, greets as I open her office door.

“Hey,” I breathe. “How are you?”

“Good. And you?” She cocks her head. “Please, sit down.”

I do as she asks, sitting down on the bulky beige couch while she’s in her big chair, right across from me. Dr Hellen is platinum-blonde with wild curls framing her high-cheeks. From the looks of it, she seems to be in her mid-thirties, her light green eyes make her seem younger, but the lines on the corners of her eyes are telling.

The hair and glasses give her that air-head, philosophy-teacher look, but her eyes are warm and homey. Like she could be someone’s safety net…

“So, tell me what’s new this week,” she asks.

“School is officially over and Christmas is in a week or so,” I tell her.

“That’s wonderful. You’ll have more free time on your hands. How’s Dylan?”

“He’s been great. Every day he comes home with something new he’s learned in school.” A smile finds its way onto my lips. “He’s with Liam at the moment. He’s been spending a lot of time with him lately. He’s been taking him to football since he joined the team.”

“That’s good.” She hums, scribbling something down on her notepad. And to my surprise, she changes the subject, asking, “And how do you feel about Christmas being around the corner?”

Here I thought she was going to ask about Liamagain.

“Um, excited?” I shrug my shoulders with a small smile. “As Dylan gets older and understands things better, it becomes more and more fun.”

It’s true. Last year, he still believed in Santa Claus. Having him prepare the cookies and milk was so fun because he kept eyeing them like he was starving.”

“And how does Liam fit into all of that?”

There it is.

My expression falls. “I have no idea.”

And I really don’t.

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