Page 48 of Rocking Player
Michael parked near the entrance of the airport and took our bags out. “Jeremy, I’ll see you in a week in Pittsburgh.”
Jeremy hugged him and said, “That will be good, Michael.”
And that was another thing. My son wasn’t comfortable calling his own father "Dad". That was probably a sign I pushed for some impossible dream, and I needed to not push.
My heart raced as Michael handed me my bag and said, “We might need to make some calls about New York’s offer.”
“New York?” Jeremy switched his bag to his other arm and stared at us.
Michael knelt down and told our son, “Yeah, they came back with the perfect contract.”
Jeremy didn’t even blink. “Do I get a brand-new car when I’m old enough then?”
Michael laughed, nodded, and hugged him as he stood. “Whatever one you want.”
Jeremy held out his thumb and said, “I’m good then.”
I blinked. My skin prickled like pins and needles stabbed at me. This wasn’t that easy.
“That’s it? You want a car?”
Jeremy stared at me like I was speaking a foreign language and then asked, “Was there something else you wanted, Mom?”
Yesterday, he’d been upset about his friends and leaving school. I didn’t want to rehash that. My heart was heavy, and I hugged my waist as the word "no" screamed in my mind. I then said, “I…I want to talk to a realtor about a home with bedrooms, and a small lawn, and a nice kitchen as I like to cook.”
The airport was full of people milling past without giving us a glance.
My entire body trembled. I glanced around and hoped no one noticed me. Then Michael came with his arms open to hug and kiss me as he said, “We can get you a palace and have the kitchen done before we move in, if you agree.”
How was he okay at a time like this? I was a walking disaster. My heart pounded as I massaged my forehead and said, “No, not yet. I need time.”
He squeezed my hand and asked, “Time to what? We can do this together.”
My eyebrows raised. This was crazy.
“Don’t push.”
He came to kiss me, but his phone rang. He held my hand and stared at Jeremy as he said, “Phil’s calling. Just give me ten seconds to say goodbye.”
Michael stepped back to talk.
I tried to breathe but my chest didn’t quite fill with air. Jeremy tugged on my sleeve. “Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Everything’s fine, Jeremy,” I told him but that wasn’t the truth.
My skin had goosebumps and adrenaline rushed through me. If I lived in New York, my stomach would be twisted and I’d be on edge like this every moment of every day, for ten years.
Jeremy said, “If you hate New York, tell Michael.”
Again, it wasn’t dad or father or papa. Jeremy’d said "Michael". That was good, right? If I said no, my son couldn’t be that mad at me. I was irrational but moving would be bad. I took a breath and took a small comfort they hadn’t developed a proper bond, and that probably made me a bad mom.
I should say something. Michael came back, phone in his pocket, and took my hands as he said, “Phil said no extension. I need to give an answer in seventy-two hours.”
My stomach muscles tightened, and I practically trembled, but I pretended I was fine and went to my tiptoes to kiss him goodbye as I said, “Call me after your game tonight.”
“You’ll be up?” He asked and held me.
“Yeah.” This wasn’t as easy as I thought. I shouldn’t be this crazy. I needed to find my voice, but I said fast, “I’ll have a chance to think.”
