Page 70 of Nothing But It All
If I had gone when Tommy called, Lauren and I would be in the same place we were when we got here. Bitter. Angry. Complacent.
Is that the problem? That I’ve become so complacent? Proud of my work, but not invested in my family?
Maybe I have tobethe change to facilitate the change.
A smile tickles my lips.
“I’m making burgers, Maddie. Do you and Pops want one?” I ask, coming into the kitchen.
Maddie balks. “Did you just sayyouare making burgers?”
“Yup.”
She gives her mom a look. “Is he okay?”
Lauren leans against the wall and rests her gaze on me. She bites her bottom lip, a brightness on her face that makes her look ten years younger.
“I’m not sure,” she says. “But I hope so.”
I smile at her.
The sun has nothing on the smile she gives me in return.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LAUREN
The sun sits on the horizon, putting on a spectacle. The most vibrant oranges, brightest reds, and richest streaks of purple light up the sky in what can be described only as nature’s artwork.
Jack holds a beer bottle as he flips burgers on the grill just outside the kitchen window. The pepperiness floating through the air is concerning. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was overseasoning the meat. Nor did I mention that salt, pepper, onion powder, garlic powder,andseasoning salt were overkill. He was so proud of himself while making our dinner. I didn’t want to be a know-it-all ... even if it means we’ll probably not be able to eat it.
I give the pasta salad I whipped together a final toss.At least we’ll have something edible.
We’ve worked in the kitchen shoulder to shoulder this evening, sometimes talking but working quietly too. It was nice having him next to me and wanting to help. But it was just as surprising how easily he managed to find his way around the kitchen.
A knot formed in my stomach when he fired up the grill.
Did it take me calling an attorney for him to want to do these things? Or would he have come around if I hadn’t blocked him out ofmy life? Because I haven’t exactly offered to be a part of his world, either, and I might have if he’d asked.
I’ve contributed to our toxic patterns more than I’ve realized.
Every Wednesday, I take the trash to the road to be picked up. Jack doesn’t have a chance to do it. Instead of asking Jack, I ask Billie to pick up Maddie if I can’t. I didn’t ask him to help with the shelves, to mow the lot next door, or to help me with the laundry last week, when I was so overwhelmed with life that I wanted to cry.
I just did it. I did it all.
Sure, the reason I overfunctioned was because of his past behavior. But looking back on it now, I see that I made it too easy for him to drop the ball ... and nearly impossible for him to pick it up again.
I glance at him through the window.
He says he wants to change, and I think he’s really trying. But just like I had to make adjustments before based on the circumstances, maybe it’s time to do that again.
As I’m pouring myself a second glass of wine, Jack carries in the burgers.
“I still got it,” he says, setting the platter in the middle of the table next to the buns and vegetable toppings. “Check those babies out.”
Ten burgers, a little singed on the edges but otherwise surprisingly okay, are heaped together in the center of a rose-printed plate.
Jack struts around the kitchen. “It appears I’ve missed my calling.”
