Page 11 of Life After Wife (Balsam Ridge 1)

After lunch, Graham says his good-byes, and Caleb and I help Mom with the dishes.

“Do you want to come with us today, Granna?” Caleb asks.

“Oh, no. You and your mother need some alone time,” she tells him.

“No, we don’t. All we ever are is alone,” he tells her. “Dad moved out, and all Mom wants to do is hide in her pajamas and watch TV all day.”

“I do not,” I object.

His head turns to me.

“Uh huh. You haven’t wanted to go anywhere since Dad left. You barely even shower.”

He’s right. I spent the better part of the last few months of the school year avoiding people. I knew the state of my marriage and Damon’s new lover were the topics of conversations in all the school drop-off and pickup lines and every end-of-year PTA function. The last thing I wanted to do was pretend that everything was fine. That I was okay. I just couldn’t stomach the whispers and the looks of pity from my former friends. So, I hid, and Caleb was the one who suffered the most.

“Well, that’s all about to change. No more mopey mom for you,” I promise him.

He just rolls his eyes.

“You’re welcome to come with us, Mom,” I offer.

She waves me off. “No, no. I have a busy afternoon planned myself. I’m getting my yoga room together,” she says.

“Your what?”

“My yoga room. I’ve been seeing a masseuse down at The Root Cellar Holistic Spa, and she talked me into taking a few of the yoga classes. It’s a mind, body, and spiritual workout,” she explains.

I’ve taken a few yoga classes myself.

“Why do you need your own yoga room?” I ask.

“Helen, the yoga instructor at the spa, had to return to Virginia to take care of her elderly mother. So, I told the girls that I’d host yoga here once or twice a week.”

“But don’t you need an instructor?” I ask.

“I’ve got it covered, I bought videos,” she states.

Videos really? That should work.

“Well, good luck with that,” I tell her.

Caleb pouts. “Maybe Granna needs our help,” he says.

He really doesn’t want to spend the day with me.

“We can stay and help if that’s what you’d rather do, bud.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s just packing up some things on the screened-in porch and moving some furniture around. You two go have fun and bring me back a hot dog from the campground,” she insists.

“Why don’t you join us at the campground later?” I suggest.

“That’s a great idea. I can get things done here. You two can explore and then we’ll all meet back up for hot dogs. I’ll call Sara-Beth and offer to make baked beans,” Mom agrees.

Caleb gives in and runs upstairs to find his shoes and his tablet.

“Give him time. It’ll get better,” Mom tells me as she dries her hands on her apron.

“Will it? Because right now, I can’t seem to say or do anything right. Maybe I should just let him do what he wants instead of forcing him to spend time with me.”

“That’s nonsense,” she scoffs.

“No, it’s not. I’ve done enough damage. He wanted to stay with his friends this summer. I could have let him and not uprooted us both.”

“And why didn’t you?” she asks.

“I was afraid he’d sit in front of a gaming console. Matthew, his friend, has older brothers, and they are always online, playing with strangers all over the world. I don’t trust them. I walked in one day, and the language they used and the things they called each other were awful.”

“Exactly. You can’t just let a child decide for himself. Not at such a tender age. Children will clutch on to the first shiny thing that gets their attention. The wrong things and bad ideas disguised as fun are too often covered in glitter and wrapped in fanciful distraction. It’s a parent’s job to help them navigate the pitfalls until they are older and gain an adequate amount of maturity to recognize them for the illusions they are. Temptations are hard enough for us to resist as adults. Guiding them to wait or to trust us until then is essential. They’ll have plenty of opportunities in life to learn from the consequences of poor decisions down the road. How about, for now, we just let them be children and do the heavy lifting ourselves? Even if they give us attitude. You’re doing right by him,” she tells me.

“I sure hope so.”

“I know so,” she assures me.

Caleb comes slinking down the steps, clutching his tablet and phone, with his shoes on and his earbuds in his ears.

I hold my hand out, and he looks at me.

“What?”

“Hand me the earbuds and leave the tablet and phone here,” I request.

“Why?” he whines.

“Because I don’t want them to distract you. We’re going to have a technology-free day, enjoying nature and each other,” I tell him.

He pulls the earbuds from his ears and tosses them in my hand and sets the devices on the foyer table.

“Whatever,” he mumbles and storms out the door to the Volvo.

Here goes nothing.

I join him and spend the afternoon serving as his tour guide through town, and in the national forest. It’s fun exploring and seeing how much things have changed and grown since the last time I was here. I regale him with stories from my childhood as I’m flooded with the memories. I introduce him around the valley, everyone treats me as if I never left and they all gush over Caleb. The concern evident in their voices as they ask the uncomfortable question again and again—how I’m doing? I just smile and politely tell them that I’m wonderful. It’s a lie. I know it and so do they.

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