Page 87 of Takeover

“Yes! You’re going to tell me why you’re acting this way. Why did you hurt Tara’s feelings?” He tenses, but he doesn’t come from under the covers. “I thought you two were best buddies. Did something happen?” He’s completely still. There is no sound coming from under the covers other than his breathing.

I gently pull back the comforter, and when he buries his head under a pillow, I pick it up and throw it across the room.

“Talk to me, Son.”

He finally sits up, but still won’t look at me. His head hangs down and he pretends to be engrossed in his Spider Man sheets.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks, his voice small.

“I’m disappointed because I don’t know why you were so rude to Tara. My son has never been rude.”

He shrugs again, still refusing to make any eye contact. I grab his hand and pull him closer. When he’s sitting next to me, I put my arm around him, and give him time to get his thoughts straight.

“If something is bothering you, you can tell me. Hey,” I grab his chin and force him to look up at me. “You know I will never, ever let anything happen to you, don’t you? And I’m not mad at you. I just want to understand.”

He looks down again, takes a deep breath, and says, “Mommy says that Tara is only pretending to like me.” His voice trembles when he makes that admission.

“What?” I ask.

“She says Tara only likes you but is pretending to like me. She says you are going to send me away.” I suspected it was something like this, but hearing the words come out of my four-year-old’s mouth is like a punch in the gut. My stomach sinks at his admission, and I can feel the blood pounding in my veins. If Vincent wasn’t here to witness it, I’d have punched several holes in the wall by now.

“When did she say that?” I ask him.

“This morning.” He looks at me, his blue eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to go away, Daddy. I like living here.” I pull him into my arms and kiss his hair.

“Vincent, you know you’re my best buddy. And you’re Tara’s best buddy too. She only moved in here because she likes you so much.”

He sniffles and says, “Really?”

“Really. And all the things she does with you. All the fun you two have together, reading you stories, hosting sleepovers for you and Evan, taking you to the store and teaching you to cook? She’s not pretending. She really likes doing those things with you. She was waiting for you to come home so she can teach you how to make lemon bars.”

He looks down and shrugs his shoulders again.

“Hey,” I say to him, tapping his bony shoulder, “look at me.” He looks up, and my heart breaks at the look in his big blue eyes. Tears pool and roll down his cheeks. “Have I ever lied to you?” I wipe his tears with my thumbs, and he shakes his head no.

“Then you can believe me when I tell you, Tara is not pretending to be your friend. I would never let anyone move in here who didn’t love you as much as I do, and I would never, ever send you away. What would I do without my best friend? Who’s going to wear matching outfits with me?” He throws himself in my arms, and his warm body against my chest is the only thing keeping me from screaming right now. So, I wrap my arms around him and stand up.

“Tara is mad at me,” he says.

“I don’t think so, but what do we do when we hurt someone’s feelings?” I ask him.

“Say sorry.” I rub his back and walk us downstairs and into the kitchen, but Tara is not there, nor is she in the living room. I check my office, and it’s empty, but I know no one has left the apartment. I’m alerted whenever the elevator door opens. I even check the room we turned into an office for her, but that’s empty too.

“Did she leave because of me?” Vincent asks. I can hear the fear in his voice, and my anger returns, a monster ready to destroy one person, but I put the monster away. For the moment.

“Of course not. She’s in here somewhere.” We go back upstairs. The master bedroom is empty, the bed left unmade. She ordered me to make it this morning, and I tackled her on the bed, messing it up even more. Then I ran out of there, telling her the last one to leave the bed is responsible for making it. Now, I can’t fucking find her, and despite my reassuring words to Vincent, my heart is beating erratically.

Then I check the room tucked away in the corner of the second floor and find her in the home gym on the stationary bike. Her back is to us but sweat coats her t-shirt as she peddles with a fury I’ve never seen before. The screen in front of her is on, and everyone on screen yells, stands up, and peddles. Tara mimics their move.

“Tara!” Vincent says. I can hear the relief in his voice at the sight of her. He starts to wiggle in my arms, and I put him down. He runs to her, and she startles when she notices him.

“Hey, kiddo,” she says, taking the earbuds out of her ears. She’s still breathing hard when she steps off the bike, and she runs a hand over her sweaty forehead. Vincent catches her off guard. He runs to her, wraps his arms around her legs, almost knocking her off balance.

“I’m sorry.” I hear the muffled sound against her legs. Tara’s eyes soften and she runs a hand through his dirty blonde hair. “I don’t want you to stop being my friend, and I don’t want you to leave.”

She bends down and takes him into a hug. “We’ll never stop being friends, kiddo, and I’m not going anywhere. You don’t ever have to worry about that, okay?’

Vincent nods, turns to me, and smiles, seemingly relieved. “Can we go bake now?” he asks.

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