Page 79 of A Better Place

The surprise mingling with tremble in his voice breaks my heart. The fact that for the last three years Jack has only had me in his life, with the exception of a few close friends, Donna and Tate and his family, makes me want to walk over and hug my baby boy tightly. Through the last three years, he’s been my rock, never once showing me how it affected him to leave the only father he ever knew and never look back. But I knew. Always. I knew that it was hurting him. I knew that he would never let it show, because that’s what big strong Jack does. I also knew that one day it would bubble up to the surface.

What I didn’t know is that it would take a man much stronger, with more integrity and honor, to break down not only my walls, but Jack’s as well. The realization of how ingrained James is into our lives already, how much he has opened us up, shown us a reality far better than what either of us thought possible, is enough to bring me to my knees. I pull Jack toward me and bring James in as well.

I stand between the boy who is becoming a man in front of my eyes and the man who is changing everything and let the silent tears fall. James wraps his arms around us both, giving us what we need in the moment. A silent reassurance. I bury my head against James’s chest when I feel one of his arms release its hold on me. I peer up at him and see that he’s not looking down at me, but straight into my son’s eyes. His hand is on the side of Jack’s face, Jack’s hand wrapped around James’s wrist. The image before me that of what a father and son would give to one another, allowing that final piece of the wall that was built with such determination to fall and crash to my feet.

The feeling is so intense I look toward the floor to make sure something didn’t literally fall off me. I step away, allowing them to have a moment, while I wipe the tears with my forefingers.

“Open it,” James says, reaching down to the floor to pick up the package I didn’t even know he had set down.

“Okay,” Jack says, chuckling. Funny how a sixteen-year-old boy wipes away the threatening emotions with laughter.

I watch as he tears into the package with the exuberance of a young boy, a smile lighting up his face. As soon as he lifts the top of the box, his eyes go to James, wide and full of excitement.

“No. Way,” he says happily.

James shrugs as if it’s not a big deal. “You’re gonna be a chef.”

“Yeah, I am,” Jack says, voice full of awe and wonder.

“Well, don’t keep your mama out of the loop. What is it?”

He holds up a stainless-steel chef’s knife, the handle shiny and black, along with a large wooden cutting board. The name Jack is burned into the bottom right corner. It’s not lost on me that he spelled his name out, rather than using his initials, but I put that thought in the back of my mind and focus on the here and now. This man walked into our lives less than six weeks ago and has transformed each of us in different ways. For me, he’s opened my heart and mind. And Jack? He gave Jack the confidence to be himself. To embrace who he is. To see what a man is.

It’s in this moment that I realize that I’m not falling. I’ve already fallen.

“James. This is just…” Jack says, shaking his head. “Thank you. You don’t know what this…” He trails off again, his words being held captive by the overwhelming emotions and feeling of a man giving him what he needs.

“You’re welcome, Jack. Full disclosure? This gift is pretty selfish.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I fully intend for you to use it with me. I want to help you learn, be by your side.”

“You do?”

“I do. I’m proud of you, son—” He clears his throat. “—kid. I mean that. Knowing what you want to do with your life, not giving a damn what your friends or anyone else says. That says a hell of a lot about you. You’re not conforming or letting what others think of you let it change who you are.”

I walk over and slide my arms around James’s waist. He wraps a strong arm around me and kisses the top of my head. Jack reaches out to shake his hand, but James pulls him in for another three-person hug. My new favorite kind of hug ever.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He leans down and kisses my forehead and murmurs, “You’re welcome.”

“Jack. No using that until James shows you how to use it,” I tell him.

“Mom. I’ve used a knife before,” he protests, no doubt his fingers itching to start chopping.

“Your mom’s right. This knife is crazy sharp. I’ll come over tomorrow night, and we can cook supper together. After that, you and your mom can come up with the rules of using it, alright, bud?”

“Yeah, got it,” he says, nodding his head. “Thanks again. This is awesome. Really.”

“No problem. Now, I’m gonna take your mom out on that date, if it’s still okay with you,” he says, teasing.

“Yeah, go for it,” he tells him. But his eyes are trained on his new gift.

I lean over and kiss Jack on the cheek. “Bye, kiddo. Homework needs to be done before I get home. Sound good?”

“On it,” he confirms. “Have fun!”

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