Page 27 of Scooter's Endgame
“Yeah, that works for me,” Kathleen replies with a smile.
And that’s how I find myself in retail hell. I did not think things through when making the offer. Being dragged from store to store looking at all the girly things is not my idea of a good time.
After an hour, maybe more, Luke eventually stops dead, tugging on his mother’s hand to get her attention. “Mama, I’m tired and thirsty.”
A look of concern crosses her face. “You feeling okay, baby?”
“Yeah, I’m just thirsty.”
Seeing my opportunity, I offer to take him to the food court and get him something to drink. “If it’ll make things easier for you, we can maybe go play some games at the arcade and meet back up when you’re done.”
“Well, I – you sure you don’t mind?”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I did.”
“All right then. That’ll certainly help to speed up the process.” She rummages around in her purse, pulling out her wallet.
“If you’re about to do what I think you’re about to do, don’t.”
“And what’s that?”
“Give me money.”
“Er, yeah. You’re about to take my kid to get a drink and play in the arcade.”
“That I am. See ya. Have fun shopping.” Luke’s hand firmly in mine, we wave and head off, laughing at the face she pulls.
Spending time one-on-one with Luke turns out to be a whole lot more fun than I had anticipated. The boy is smart, with a quirky sense of humor unexpected in one so young. But more than that, he’s a font of knowledge when it comes to his mother. He’s also way more observant than the average child.
“Uncle Beckett, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, bud. Go ahead.”
“You were Daddy’s friend …”
Not technically true, but I’m not about to tell the boy that. “Yeah.”
“Do you know why he left us?” His little face is turned up to mine, an earnest expression in his eyes.
My gut clenches at his question. I mean, how the hell do I tell him it’s because his father is a douche who doesn’t deserve the amazing family he had? And was too stupid to appreciate what he had when it was his.
“I don’t know, bud. It’s not something he talked to me about. But one thing Idoknow for sure is that it had nothing to do with you and your mama.” As the words come out, I realize that’s the crux of the question. The unspoken meaning behind it.
“You’re a really great kid, and your dad knows that. I think he just needs to deal with some stuff that no one can help him with – that he has to do on his own.”
“But why did he have to leave to do it?”
“Because he needs to go somewhere to get the help.”
“Do you think he’ll ever come back?”
“Maybe. But even if he doesn’t, he will always love you. Sometimes we just don’t know how to tell or show people how we feel. And that’s not your fault. It’s something that’s broken in the other person.”
“Is Daddy broken?”
The conversation is definitely not a comfortable one, but I’m guessing it’s one he needs to have and either doesn’t want to have it with his mama or he’s not comfortable talking to her about it.
I’m also super aware that whatever I say could potentially make things worse if I say the wrong thing or in a way he doesn’t understand. “Yeah, I think maybe he is. It happens sometimes.”
