Page 5 of Game Changer
I hesitate. "Football," I finally admit. "He played football."
Tyler sits up, sleep forgotten. "Really? Was he good? Did he play for a real team? Does he still play? Can I meet him?"
The questions come rapid-fire, each one more difficult to answer than the last. I place my hands on his shoulders, gently easing him back down.
"That's enough questions for tonight," I say. "It's past your bedtime."
"But Mom—"
"Tyler," I say firmly, using my no-nonsense voice. "Bedtime. We can talk more tomorrow."
He pouts but settles back down, his mind clearly racing with this new information. I turn off the lamp, leaving only the bathroom light on with the door cracked the way he likes it.
"Mom?" he whispers in the semi-darkness.
"Yes, baby?"
"Does my dad know about me?"
My throat tightens. "He does now," I say softly. "And he wants to meet you."
"Really?" The hope in his voice breaks my heart.
"Really," I promise, praying that David will make good on his text, that he'll be sober tomorrow, that he'll want to be the father Tyler deserves.
"Is that where you went today? To see my dad?"
"Yes," I admit. "I wanted to talk to him first, to make sure he was ready to meet you."
"And is he?"
I think of David's broken expression when he saw the photo of Tyler, the way his hands trembled. "He will be," I say, more a wish than a certainty.
Tyler yawns, finally surrendering to sleep. "Tomorrow?" he asks drowsily.
"We'll see," I say, kissing his forehead. "Sweet dreams, baby."
I wait until his breathing deepens before slipping out of bed to retrieve my phone. David's message still waits for a response.
Me: *Tomorrow works. Tyler's asking about you. I didn't say much, but he knows you exist now.*
I hit send before I can overthink it, then add:
Me: *He's excited. Please don't disappoint him.*
The response comes almost immediately:
David: *I'll be there. 10 AM? Where should we meet?*
I consider telling him we can go to his house, but the thought of Tyler seeing where his father lives versus where we're staying makes me uncomfortable. The disparity is too stark. Too soon.
Me: *There's a park two blocks from your building. The one with the red playground. 10 AM works.*
David: *I'll be there. And Mia? Thank you for giving me this chance. I know I don't deserve it.*
I stare at his message, unsure how to respond. He's right. He doesn't deserve it, not in the state he’s in. But this isn't about what David deserves. It's about what Tyler deserves.
Me: *Just be sober. And try to look less like you're auditioning for a role in The Walking Dead. Tyler watches cartoons, not horror movies.*
