Page 31 of My Song for You
I told him.
“I’ve heard of you guys, but I’m more into country.”
By “heard of,” he no doubt meant the controversies that had swirled around us on more than one occasion.
“So, you’re a stay-at-home dad?” I asked as we walked outside to the playground behind the school. The temperature had already warmed up, the sun bright in the sky.
“No, I have a computer programming company, but I work out of my home so that I can be there for my son more. I used to work for a multinational corporation, but with the long hours expected of me at the office, I was rarely home when Ben was awake.” At least he was home more than I would be if I had a child and was still touring.
The boys climbed onto the swings and asked us to push them. Callie had already warned me not to push Logan too high. The swings tended to make him nauseous.
“So what’s the deal with you and Callie?” Tony asked. “She seems nice.”
At something in his voice, a hint of jealousy sparked in me, and I turned to him, my attention no longer on Logan. But before I could figure out what he was really asking, Logan and the swing slammed against my leg. I fell backward, and my ass landed hard on the gravel.
Without missing a beat, I replied, “She is nice,” and pushed myself up, my pride more bruised than my backside.
Tony and I continued talking while the boys played. I was so used to talking to my bandmates, fans, groupies, media, and people from the record label that it felt weird talking to someone who had nothing to do with the music industry. We chatted about all kinds of things, but mostly about the boys. Tony told me all the stuff he and Ben did together, and that made me think about my own father—and what Logan was missing out on because of Callie’s fear of him getting hurt.
But despite his original question about Callie, he didn’t seem interested in her the same way that I was. Relief extinguished the jealousy.
Tony and Ben eventually had to go home.
“How ’bout we go visit your mom and get some lunch?” I said to Logan on the way to my car.
He jumped up and down like a cheerleader buzzed on caffeine. “Yay! Chocolate milkshake and fries.”
I chuckled at his enthusiasm. “Okay. Milkshakes and fries it is.”
The diner was busy when we arrived, with several people waiting ahead of us for a table. The place resembled a restaurant from the fifties, but more recently renovated. In the far corner was an old-fashioned jukebox, but I couldn’t tell if it worked or was just for display. It wasn’t currently playing any music. White and black tiles covered the floor, like a giant checkerboard. Bright red chairs and booth seats added a splash of color. The only things out of place were the dozen framed photos with a windy-weather theme, including a picture of a guy standing in the wind with his umbrella inside out. Some had a more comical feel, while others showcased the emotion behind the high winds in the pictures.
A woman with chin-length blond hair smiled at Logan. “Hi, honey,” she said in a faded Texas drawl as she ruffled his hair. “You come for the usual?”
Logan nodded enthusiastically.
“All right. I’ll get you a table in your mom’s section as soon as I can.” She winked at me and walked off to the kitchen, stopping briefly to speak to Callie.
Callie looked in our direction and smiled at us. Despite the exhaustion that was clearly weighing her down, her smile was bright and warm.
We didn’t have to wait more than five minutes before the woman, whose name, I learned, was Alice, led us to a booth. Logan sat and I took the seat opposite him.
Alice handed me a menu and Logan a coloring page with the kids’ menu at the bottom. “Callie’ll be with you in a minute.” She walked off, leaving me to study my menu.
“Other than fries and chocolate milkshakes, what else do you recommend?” I asked Logan. I removed my guitar pick from my pocket and flipped it between my fingers and across the back of my hand.
He shrugged and started coloring the elephant with his favorite color of crayon—green.
“Do you like burgers?” I asked.
Before he had a chance to answer, two chocolate milkshakes were placed in front of us. A tall swirl of whipped cream with a cherry sat on top of each shake.
“If I remember correctly,” Callie said to me, “you used to love chocolate milkshakes.”
“Still do.” I just couldn’t remember the last time I’d had one. You tended not to go for drinks with the guys and order milkshakes. Beers were the drink of choice when the band went out.
“I see you haven’t changed much.” She gestured at the guitar pick.
I’d started playing around with my picks back when I was first learning to play the guitar more seriously. Strumming the instrument somehow grounded me, but when I didn’t have my guitar with me, this did the trick. It had gotten to the point where half the time I was doing it unconsciously.
