Page 8 of Game Changer
"Like this?" he asks.
"Exactly like that," I say, amazed at how quickly he learns. "You're a natural."
We throw the ball back and forth for what feels like hours, but is probably only twenty minutes. My knee protests, but I ignore it. This matters more.
Eventually, Tyler runs off to the slide, declaring I should watch how fast he can go. I make my way to the bench where Mia sits.
"He's amazing," I say, sitting beside her, watching Tyler climb the ladder.
"He is," she agrees. "And he's been waiting his whole life for this, whether he knew it or not."
Guilt twists in my gut. "I should have been there."
She sighs. "That's on me. I should have told you."
We sit in silence for a moment, watching our son navigate the playground with the confidence of someone who knows his place in the world.
My throat aches for the familiar burn of bourbon, that warm cascade that promises to dull both the pain in my knee and the anxiety churning in my gut. I find myself scanning the park perimeter for a liquor store sign, a reflex so automatic it shames me when I catch myself doing it in front of my son. But I can't. I won't.
"I want to be in his life," I say finally. "I know I'm a mess right now, but I want to try. I need to try."
Mia turns to face me. "Are you sure? Because if you're going to do this, you must commit. He's not a game you can walk away from when it gets tough. He's a person. A little person who will build his heart around you if you let him."
"I know," I say. "And I'm terrified I'll screw it up. But I've never been surer of anything."
"You're sober today," she observes.
"I'll be sober tomorrow too," I promise. "And the day after that."
She doesn't respond immediately, watching Tyler who is now waving frantically from the top of the slide.
"Dad! Mom! Watch this!" he shouts.
We both wave, and he launches himself down the slide, arms raised in victory when he reaches the bottom.
"I can help with your car," I say, returning to the immediate problem. "And whatever else you need."
"We don't need charity," Mia says, her pride flaring.
"It's not charity. It's responsibility. He's my son too."
She softens slightly. "The car would help. But what happens when we go back home? Tyler's in pre-K there, my job is there—"
"Where is home?" I interrupt, realizing I don't even know where my son has been living.
"San Diego," she says. "I've been there since... since we split up."
Five hundred miles away. The thought of them leaving, of Tyler disappearing from my life just when I've found him, makes my chest tighten.
"What if you stayed?" I hear myself asking before I've fully formed the thought. "At least for a while. Give me a chance to get to know him. To be his dad."
She looks surprised. "We can't just stay in a motel indefinitely, David."
"No, but..." I scramble for a solution. "I have a spare room. You could stay with me while we figure things out."
"Let me think about it," she finally says. "This is all happening very fast."
"I know," I agree. "But he's four years old. We've already missed so much time."
