I shook my head. “Nope. Not tonight. I haven’t heard from him today.”
She nodded, her lips turning down as she glanced away for a second. Her eyes snapped back to me. “So, I’m seeing Vince Freeman here all by himself?”
I let out a short laugh. “You are. I’m here for dinner.”
Lindsey looked around with a confused look on her face. “Here?”
“It’s here or eating a bowl of cereal leaning against my kitchen sink,” I said.
“Well, we can’t have that. I’ll grab you a burger.”
I dove into the massive cheeseburger and basket of fries, trying to make her smile.4LindseyThere were many things I loved about owning the bar and getting to work at it every day. One of them was the late hours. Unlike other restaurants or stores that required somebody to open them up early in the morning, the bar stayed shuttered until the middle of the afternoon. We started serving dinner in the evening before people started coming in to do their socializing and drinking. But that meant I had my mornings free.
Since that also meant I stayed at the bar until the wee hours of the morning many days, most days of the week my mornings were spent asleep. It was uncommon for me to be up before double digits. But that wasn’t the case on Thursdays. That was because Thursdays were the weekday Grant finally relented to allow me to spend some time with Remy. This was one of the compromises we had to both accept on that tense, unpleasant phone conversation. As much as I resisted going over to his house and visiting with my son on his terms, I eventually had to give in. If I ground in my heels and absolutely refused to go along with it, it would mean missing out on an opportunity to spend time with my little boy.
Instead, I insisted on private time with him on Saturdays in exchange for agreeing to have our Thursdays at Grant’s house. Being able to run up there and be with him brought a bright spot to my week. It was indescribably difficult to have to be away from him all the time. I woke up missing him and didn’t stop until I went to bed at night. The days when I got to see him were easier, but the pain was still there.
I hated the situation we were in. I loved my son more than I could explain and felt an incredible amount of guilt that I let Grant’s family railroad me for his care. Nick told me feeling that way was unreasonable. I couldn’t beat myself up for making a decision I was forced to agree was the best one for my little boy. At the time, I had no idea what the arrangement would actually mean for my relationship with him. I believed giving in and allowing the more financially stable parent take over his primary care was in his best interests. Besides, with Grant he would have access to two grandparents. Regardless of how I felt about Grant’s parents, they cared about Remy. And a child could never have too much love.
Especially a child who dealt with a disability the way Remy did. I would absolutely admit it was a shock when my son was born blind. I went through all the blood tests. I had ultrasounds to check on his growth and progress. I did everything, and that was never an indication of anything abnormal. It put my mind at ease.
Until the day he was born. Remy was the most beautiful baby boy I have ever seen. He came out stretching and screaming just the way a newborn was supposed to. But within those first few seconds of his life, I could see on the doctor’s face that something wasn’t right. Her expression faltered. It wasn’t anything extreme. She didn’t overreact and start shouting. She didn’t bundle him up and run out of the room. It was just a change in the look in her eyes and the smile on her lips.
She brought him over to be checked but didn’t immediately announce the details I expected. I wanted her to shout out his weight and length. I wanted her to say he looked great and bring him over into my arms. Instead, there was an agonizing wait before she settled him into my arms and gave me the news I could never have expected. News that never would have entered my mind as something that might happen.
She believed Remy was blind.
It took some time to get absolute confirmation, but from that first day, I had to rethink what it was going to be to raise my son. He would never see my face or my smile. He would never see the sky or a rainbow. He wouldn’t know the endless hues of colors or the ocean. How would he connect with me? How would he know me? How would he interact with the world? How would I keep him safe?