Page 22 of Fresh Canvas
“Yeah. Going there with Dad sounded kinda cool.” He shrugged like it meant nothing, but his eager eyes said otherwise.
I rubbed his pajama-clothed back, feeling heavy and hollow at the same time.
“It does sound cool, doesn’t it?”
“If I promise to write you letters or something, could you let me go? I can call you too.”
His small voice was waiting, pleading,needing.
CouldI let him go?
I allowed a moment of silence in the darkened room. My eyes roved over the messy bed before catching on the ever-present black duffel bag leaning against his dresser.
Clothes from his last visit to Ryan’s spilled out the top, as well as a glinting silver frame of a chubby baby being kissed by his mother.
Anthony deserved the world, even if I wouldn’t be by his side while he explored it. A world with time and attention frombothparents.
“I’ll talk to your dad,” I whispered, “and I promise to think about it.”
Istrolled the grid-like streets of the flea market with my phone pressed to my ear and my heart in my throat. Spring tulips waved in the breeze, as if wishing for me to have a better day.
“Pick up,” I grumbled.
Ryan’s voicemail was getting old. I hung up for the third time, too timid to leave a message. When would I finally pluck up enough courage to stop shrinking around him?
A friendly vendor nodded at me as I passed his table full of wares. I mustered a wave, chewing my lip as I wandered aimlessly. Mom was likely still back in that canvas tent, engrossed with the blue china plate she’d been eyeing. I’d find her later.
Ryan’s contact photo blazed to life as my phone began to ring. My stomach lurched at those blue eyes. Even his lifeless photo had me cowering.
Pathetic.
I swallowed and said, “Hello?”
“Amantha. I’m atwork. What do you need?”
“Uh, sorry. I assumed since it’s Saturday, you’d have some time to talk,” I muttered.
“Well, you assumed wrong. Let’s make this quick.” Ryan’s sharp exhale sliced through my speaker. “What did you need to talk about?”
I bit back the retort he deserved, choosing a conciliatory path instead.
“The Europe trip.”
Those three words softened Ryan’s tone. “What about it?”
My poor lip was chewed raw. “I’m considering it. But we need to work some things out first.”
Ryan’s huff told me how much he was invested in this trip. How much he wanted it.
“I already told you, Amantha. I’ll finalize the divorce, pay the settlement, and agree to your lawyer’s terms. Besides, Anthony already knows about the trip, so enjoy being the bad guy if you say no.”
The bad guy?How dare he.
“I don’t care about being the bad guy, as long as I’m doing what’s best for Anthony.” I paused to fill my lungs, then blew the breath out. “And I happen to think it’s best if he goes to Europe.”
That finally shut Ryan up. After a few moments, he asked, “You do?”
I sighed. “I do. But my lawyer and I have some strict stipulations that you’ll need to sign. I’ve already emailed them to you.”
