Page 66 of Someone to Have
“I can tell. My son needed help and I didn’t see it.” Jen says this more to herself than me, her tone flat. It’s precisely why I didn’t want to tell her any of this.
“It isn’t about blame or judging yourself. Guilt does no one any good.”
Her smile is tight. “Being a mother means constantly worrying how you’re failing your kids. Add in the fact that I’m generally failing at life, and it’s a big deal. You don’t even like kids, and you realized he has a problem.”
I scoff. “I like kids.”
“Eric, I’m not making this up. You literally said those words to me when I asked you to come back. ‘Jen, I don’t even like kids.’”
“I didn’t realize I liked kids.” I shoot her a conciliatory smile. “I do. I like Rhett.”
“Because he’s the best.” She laughs softly. “At least I’ve done something right in my life.”
“You’ve done plenty of?—”
“Tell me about Taylor. You tugged on your ear when you first brought her up.”
“So what? It itched.”
“It’s your tell. Always has been. When you’re guilty about something, you tug on your ear.”
“Bullshit.” I rack my mind to figure out if she’s right and decide she’s bluffing. “If that were the case, why haven’t you mentioned it before now?”
“And give up my chance to read you? Come on. I rarely get the upper hand on my annoyingly talented brother.”
“You’re just as talented.”
“Not in a way that got me out of northern Minnesota and a full ride at a prestigious university.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I managed to mess that up by walking away.”
“We do share the same self-destructive DNA,” she says with a wry smile. “We could also spend days arguing over which one of us is more dysfunctional. What matters is that when I needed you, Eric, you stepped up. And it’s helping my son.”
“I asked Taylor to tutor him because I trust her.”
Her raised brow tells me exactly what she’s thinking, and it’s way too perceptive.
“Like I said,” I continue before she can voice that sisterly perception, “she’s Toby’s sister. She gets hockey players and is a good person. The best, Jen. Really. Rhett trusts her, too. She isn’t going to talk to anybody at the school about his challenges, but she thinks they should know. There are accommodations, she calls them, that he could get—ways to make it easier on him.”
“He’d be labeled.”
“He’s already been labeled, and he’s proving everyone wrong. Asking for help.” I lean forward and take her hand. “Getting help is not a weakness.”
She blinks away the tears that fill her eyes. “He’s coming down the stairs. I’ll think about it, okay? For the record, I want to meet the tutor.”
“Excuse me?” I manage to stop my jaw from hitting the floor. There is no way in hell my sister is meeting Tinkerbell.
“Hey, Rhett,” she says as he flops down with the box of cupcakes, “your uncle was telling me how much you like this new tutor.”
He nods. “I mean, she’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”
“You’re a smart kid, dude,” she tells him. “Smart people get help when they need it.” She does a quick little jazz hand session in the air in front of her. “Why do you think I’m here? Because I got smart.”
He grabs a cupcake from the box. “Taylor’s cool. And I like getting decent grades, you know?”
“I know. I was just saying that maybe next Sunday, if Taylor is willing, you could bring her with you.”
His mouth forms a small “O” and he glances at me.
