Page 79 of When the Night is Over

I rinse my hands and sit down in the chair opposite Simon. “He’s not at that age where he’s asking any hard questions yet, so I started off by explaining that kids have a momanda dad. I told him that you, his dad, have been going to school somewhere far away. It was so far that I didn’t know where to find you, so you didn’t even know about him until yesterday. And once you found out, you got in your car and drove up here right away so you could meet him.”

“Thank you for that. I don’t want him ever thinking I wouldn’t have come if I’d known.”

“He had me take out his baby book this morning. He wants to show it to you.”

I don’t tell him that Ethan actually said:I gonna show Dad baby Ethan.I had to excuse myself for a few moments. Just hearing him refer to Simon as Dad had me welling up, and then being hit, once again, with the guilt over Simon never having the chance to witness all those milestones, I felt a crushing sense of sadness.

“I’d like that.”

I feel like telling him to brace himself, because it’s going to hurt.

* * *

Simon

She’s already called me five times this morning. She has to know I’m not looking to connect with her right now, must understand that I’m furious, so I can only assume she’s hell bent on pleading her case. She’s too arrogant to simply admit she was wrong and apologize. I’m sure she’s been thinking this through, maybe even working out a strategy with her mother since I tore out of there. I’ll have to face her someday, talk to her in the very least, but today’s not that day. I switched the ringer off before I left the cabin, but the buzzing sound it’s making as it vibrates against the table is about as disruptive as a jackhammer right now.

“You’re more popular than the president.” Charlotte tosses this out before going back to the counter to finish preparing lunch.

“Hey, about before—”

“Let’s not do this right now.” She turns to face me. “I can’t.”

Her expression is a plea, so I don’t press, but I’m itching to clear the air because I want to know more about her life in return. She hasn’t been holed up here for the past three years. She’s a college student, and a beautiful one at that. I want details on everyone who’s in her life, in Ethan’s life. I need to know what I’ve missed.

Her expression turns on a dime, eyes bright and smiling now. “What have you got there?”

I didn’t hear them come in, so my heart rate skyrockets when I turn to see my son, finally getting a chance to take him in. He’s hiding behind Lawrence, peering around the man’s legs to get a look at me. I’m smiling even though I’m definitely more scared than he is right now. I’ve rehearsed this moment a hundred times over the past forty-eight or so hours, but I’m stumped now, the opening lines I’ve practiced forgotten.

I stand and then crouch down so I’m at his level. “Hi, Ethan…I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.” Lawrence moves into the kitchen area, which brings my son closer. I still have the drawing in my hand, so I hold it up to him. “Did you draw this?”

“Yes,” he answers. He’s out from behind Lawrence now but still holding onto the hem of his shorts with one hand.

“I really like it. You’re a good artist.”

“That’s me,” he points to the little figure tentatively, “and that’s Dad,” he adds when he points to the large blob that is me.

“I’m Simon. I’m your dad.”

He gives me a lopsided smile, and that alone threatens to crack me wide open.

“Who’s hungry?”

“I could eat,” Lawrence says, sliding a chair out. He reaches over and shakes my hand. “Good to see you, Simon.”

“Thanks for letting me use the cabin.”

He nods and smiles as he directs Ethan to take the chair between us. That one small gesture leads me to believe I have an ally in this man. Charlotte hands Lawrence a glass of water and a pill as he asks, “What’s for lunch?”

“A little chicken salad.”

Ethan glances my way when he says in a quiet voice, “Sawad is my favowite.”

“Does your mom still put those little red berries in her chicken salad?”

“Cwanbewwies?” he asks, nodding his head and smiling. “Yeah.”

Charlotte shoots Ethan a playful look as she sets the chicken salad and a basket full of rolls onto the table. “Except now I make sure to put the cranberries in there so that Ethan won’t feed his lunch to Moe.” Looking to me she explains, “The dog doesn’t like them.”

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