I close my eyes and remember how good life was—the weekend trips our family used to take to the lake, game and movie nights, playing whiffle ball in the backyard.
“What happened when you were ten?” he asks softly through the door.
My eyes pop open. “That’s when my life changed. I went off to Hollywood, got my own TV show, and nothing was ever the same.”
The door cracks open enough for me to see a sliver of his face. “Did your mom leave you?”
I shake my head. “Not at first. She was with me every day for the first year.”
“And then what happened?”
“She went home.”
“And she didn’t take you with her?” he asks. I shake my head. “Did you miss her?”
I nod. Those first few nights without her were rough. I was still a kid in a fancy condo with a nanny, tutor, butler, and every toy I ever wanted, and I was so alone. Never, in a million years, did I think she would leave me. Had I known, I’m not sure I would’ve chosen that life. But hind sight is twenty-twenty, and I can’t go back and change things now.
“I missed her every second of every day.”
“Did she ever come back?”
“Every other weekend for a while. And sometimes on my birthday.”
Jack’s gaze falls to the floor. “My mom isn’t coming back. Not even on my birthday. Did you know we share the same birthday?”
“I didn’t know that. When is your birthday?”
“June twenty-second.”
“Hey, mine is June twenty-third.”
“Really?”
I nod.
He tries to smile, but it falls short. “Mom always told me I was the best gift she’d ever gotten. I thought I was special, but then she left.”
I want so bad to push the door open and pull him into my arms, but he’s talking, and I don’t want to do anything that’ll jeopardize the fragile bit of trust I seem to have gained.
“I’m sorry, Jack.”
He shrugs and looks up. His eyes are swimming with tears, and the tremble in his lower lip tells me he’s doing everything in his power to hold his emotions in.
“Do you miss her?”
He nods, and the first tear falls. And then another and another and screw this. I nudge my way into Jack’s room and pull him into my arms. He pushes his face into my stomach, wraps his arms around my waist, and cries.
I don’t know Lorelei’s story, or the demons she was battling, but right now I want to clobber her for doing anything that could leave her child in so much pain.
“I’m so sorry, Jack.” I hug him close and rub his back.
“I miss her,” he says between sobs. “I miss her so much, and I just want to see her again.”
Son of a bitch. I squeeze my eyes shut, but a tear escapes anyway. How am I supposed to respond to that? I try to come up with something—anything—but I’ve got nothing, because I don’t know the circumstances surrounding the situation.
“Will you tell me about her?” I ask.
“Really?” Jack looks up, and I wipe a tear from his cheek.