Page 11 of My Song for You
“Who’s Ben?” I asked Logan, curious if the mention of him and his father was what had upset Callie.
“My friend,” he said.
“They’re in the same preschool program.” Callie picked up the sodden napkins and disappeared into the kitchen.
“His father sounds great,” I said. “My dad used to take me and my sister to Disneyland too.”
Logan went on to list all the other cool activities Ben’s father did with his son: fishing, teaching him to play baseball, taking him on trips. As he spoke, his voice was heavy with wistfulness. He wasn’t exactly jealous of his friend, but he was in awe of everything Ben got to do with his dad.
A dad that Logan didn’t have.
Or maybe it was more than that. “I bet you’ve done some cool stuff with your mom,” I ventured, attempting to lead the conversation away from his lack of a father.
He nodded. “She plays soccer with me and takes me to the park. And she and Mrs. Rogers took me to zoo once.” He grinned. “I like the animals and ice cream.”
“That sounds like a lot of fun.”
“They were fun. But Mommy too busy. She works all the time.”
He was just being an honest four-year-old. He wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, but I knew Callie. If she’d heard him, and I was positive she had, his words would’ve cut deep.
I wasn’t the only one who didn’t know what to say. Sharon watched Logan, the smile on her face gone. Callie still hadn’t returned.
Sharon’s gaze jumped from me to Logan and back again. A thought was forming in her head, but I had no idea what it was. I had long ago quit trying to figure out women, and that included my mom and sister.
Callie walked out of the kitchen, a big smile plastered on her face. “How about I take you to Disneyland next weekend?” She hugged her son and kissed the top of his head. “I have Sunday off.”
For the first time since bumping into her this afternoon, I noticed the exhaustion on her face. I mentally cursed the asshole who had done this to her. Did he even pay child support? Maybe he hadn’t wanted to be part of his child’s life, but it did take two to make a baby. I might not have been great in biology, but that much I did remember.
Logan cheered his mom’s decision. He jumped off his chair, grabbed the string of his dog balloon, and ran to his room. The balloon dragged through the air after him, like a dog reluctant to go for a walk. Callie’s plastered-on smile eased slightly to something more genuine.
“Thank you for the party,” Sharon said. “I’ll see you Monday.” To me she added, “It was nice meeting you, Jared.”
I waited until the apartment door clicked shut before asking if Callie was okay.
She picked up Logan’s Pooh plate. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Really? Are you forgetting we’ve known each other since we were kids?”
She didn’t even pause in gathering the dirty dishes to answer. “We haven’t seen each other in, what, five years? Maybe I’ve changed.”
“Where’s Logan’s father?” I said in a low voice.
Callie’s hand jerked with Sharon’s plate, narrowly missing an empty glass. “It doesn’t matter where he is.” Without looking at me, she returned to the kitchen.
I followed her. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter?”
Her entire body stiffened. “Just that. He’s not part of Logan’s life and he never will be.” The venom in her voice was deadly. Ouch. I was almost relieved for the asshole that he wasn’t here.
I didn’t say anything at first. I just watched her fill the sink with soapy water and scrub a plate clean. She continued scrubbing it long after every molecule of dirt had been banished.
She was obviously mad, but it was less clear at whom she was pissed: Logan’s father or me.
I stepped behind her and threaded my fingers with hers, stopping her incessant scrubbing. Her hand trembled in mine. I fought back the urge to wrap my arms around her and do something idiotic to temporarily distract her, like run my lips along the soft skin of her neck.
I glanced away…to the fridge, barely visible behind a sea of Logan’s artwork. All the pictures had been drawn with crayons and either contained awkward-looking stick people or colorful animals with disproportionate bodies and limbs. “Does he know about Logan?”
“It doesn’t matter.” The words were whispered. I couldn’t be certain if they were directed at me or at herself.
