Page 55 of The Single Dads Club
“We always knew this was coming,” she says gently, somehow able to sense my implosion from five hundred miles away. “He told me the prognosis a year ago.”
I take a deep breath and resume stroking Grier’s hair. “I know, but you— I didn’t—” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “You’re mymom.” The words sound ridiculous as soon as they’re out. But I don’t know how to say what I’m feeling.
Grier squirms in my grasp with a noise like an angry cat. “Want Gamma!”
“Do I hear the wild goober?” Mom’s smile is audible.
“Y ... yeah. She wants to talk to you,” I manage to whisper.
I hand my daughter the phone before she can gear up into a full-blown tantrum.
She squeals in delight and starts babbling at top speed while I just stare past her, completely numb. I can’t process anything. I know this is real, this is happening, it’s not a nightmare, but I can’t make myself believe it. I don’t want to believe it. I can’t imagine losing my mom. What the hell do I do? My dad hasn’t been in the picture since he split when I was four. It’s always been just me and Mom.
As I process that, another thought pops into my head.
And what kind of a son am I?
Yes, I made sure she had all the money she needed for the best medical care possible, and I’ve visited her a couple of times since her diagnosis, but that’s not nearly enough. What the hell have I been doing here in New York? My business is here. My life. But now, none of that seems to matter anymore.
I let myself pretend that my hopes would come true, and Mom would defy the odds stacked against her and magically get better, and nothing about our world would have to change. She’d live forever. She’d get to watch my little girl become a woman and be there to offer advice when I consider making stupid decisions. But the universe seems to be set against us. Suddenly, I’m so pissed I can barely breathe—at myself, at the cancer, at the mess that’s been made of our lives. Everything is wrong because it was never meant to be like this. At the prospect of doing something instead of just sitting here feeling empty, I absently bounce Grier on my knee as my mind starts churning.
Action items. Make a list. What needs to get done and in what order?
Buy a place in North Carolina as close to Mom as possible, hire a moving company, handle all the paperwork that comes with changing addresses, sell my apartment here, find a new oncologist for Mom, and dozens of other details. It’s a lot, but still manageable.
When Grier pauses for breath, I say, “May I talk to Grandma again?”
She stares at me as if I just asked her to jump off a cliff.
“Just for a minute.” When her eyes narrow, I have a stroke of inspiration. “Is Flapflap hungry? Let’s give him some breakfast.”
Grier drops the phone in my lap—I grab it before it falls to the floor—and charges off at top speed to fetch her beloved stuffed bat. Tossing him in the washing machine later is a small price to pay for peace, even if I’ll have to figure out a way to distract her from his brief absence.
She doesnotlike him put through the washing machine. I learned that the hard way.
Without preamble, I say to Mom, “We’re coming to North Carolina. I’m moving back.”
“What? When? Are you sure? But what about your job?” Mom’s voice is filled with disbelief.
Next to Grier, real estate is my biggest passion. I can’t imagine giving it up. Besides, I’m just not the stay-at-home type. I tried taking extended leave when she was born, and I got cabin fever and went back to work early. The thought of retirement makes me break out in hives. There’s no way I can give it up. I’ll run my company remotely but delegate more so I can focus on the big-picture stuff.
Grier returns with her favorite bedraggled friend in tow and starts mashing a handful of banana slices into his fuzzy snout.
“Lex?” Mom says. “You still there?”
“Sorry, I was thinking. And yes, I’m sure. I can work from home.” And if worse comes to worst and I have to pass ownership on to someone else, I can always try to get involved in the local market. Flip houses and whatnot.
Mom hums in a way that I know is accompanied by a frown. “I’d love to have you close. But you work too much, sugar. I worry about you two.”
This again.I restrain a sigh and speed through my counterarguments to every point she’s about to try making. “What can I say? I love my job. It keeps me happy and sane. And before you bring up Grier, I don’t think having more free time while also being miserable will help me be a better father.”
“Well, I don’t understand it,” Mom says as if we haven’t had this exact conversation a hundred times before. “But if that’s what you’ve decided, then at least think about finding a nice lady to help out. You’ve got your hands way too full.”
“Uh-huh,” I say automatically, and I almost have to laugh. Retreading such well-worn ground makes me feel so much more normal.
“Good. Anyway, I’ll let you go now.” Her voice brightens. “I really am over the moon to know I’ll have you back home. I love you both so much, and I’m looking forward to seeing you and my grandbaby all the time.”
“I love you too, Mom. I’ll keep you updated about the plan.” I hold the phone up to Grier’s ear. “Say bye-bye to Grandma, kiddo.”
