Birthday Girl

“So, did she break it off with you or you with her?” Cole asks, bringing up Jordan again.

I stare at him. I don’t want to talk about this. I just want him to be okay. I want him to talk about anything else with me.

But mostly, because I’m not proud of my answer. If Jordan hadn’t left, I would’ve kept her as long as she was willing to stay. I should’ve given her up for him, and I didn’t. And I’m not sure I would’ve if she had left the choice up to me.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him instead. “You’ll never know how sorry I am.”

His eyes are locked on mine, a flood of emotions I’m not sure I want to face crossing his gaze. Pain, disappointment, confusion, loneliness…. But also calmness, resolution, and acceptance.

“When I saw you at graduation yesterday, I wanted to still be mad at you,” he says. “And I was aggravated that I wasn’t.”

He drops his eyes, the wheels turning in his head.

“There’s something to be said about time and distance, I guess.” He gives a sad smile. “You get a lot of perspective. A lot of time to think about things.”

Yeah.

“When I was six,” he goes on, “you lost a contract because you came to my Little League game that day instead. On my tenth birthday, you moved my party and paid for everyone to go to the go-cart place, because Mom and one of her boyfriends started fighting at the house and embarrassing the hell out of me in front of everyone. When I graduated high school, you took out a second mortgage to pay for my college which I just pissed down the drain.”

My throat swells. He remembers all that?

“Doing what you could to make me happy, no matter the sacrifice, never seemed like a tough decision for you.” He peers over at me, his voice thick with emotion. “So, I think, doing something you knew could hurt me, was definitely not an easy choice,” he says. “I know you love me.”

I grind my teeth together to keep my breathing even, and relief washes over me.

“I don’t know how okay I am with all this, but…” He nods. “I know you love me.”

I’m speechless. It’s a little heartbreaking to look at your son and wonder if you had anything to do with how good he turned out. I can’t believe he’s sitting here right now when I wasn’t sure he’d ever look at me again.

“Do you still love her?” he asks.

I hesitate a moment, searching for the words. Yes, I still love her, but… “She’s better off,” I tell him.

He leaves it there, not pressing further. “I have to be back tomorrow night. Is it okay if I stay the night?”

“Of course.”

He rises, carrying his beer toward the living room with him. “The Twins are playing the Cubs tonight,” he says. “You want to watch?”

I inhale a deep breath and release it, feeling like my body is relaxing for the first time in months. “Sounds good. I’ll order some pizza.”

“Cheese,” he specifies.

I laugh quietly. “Yeah, I remember.”

I take my phone out of my pocket and start to dial Joe’s, but then I hear his voice.

“And Dad?” he says.

I look up.

“I love you,” he tells me. “But no one’s better off without you.”

That night, I wake up to thunder rolling somewhere in the distance. I don’t open my eyes, the weight of too many long days at the job site heavy on my lids. I turn on my side, knowing I’ll fall back asleep if I give it a minute.

The inside of my right arm burns with the tattoo I got earlier tonight. Cole and I decided to go to Rockford after the pizza and get those tattoos he mentioned. He chose an anchor in the middle of his back, accompanied by a compass and a fisherman’s knot with the motto “Forged by the Sea” around it. It’s all just outlined, though. He said he’ll get it colored in after he’s earned it.

I’m guessing that means after his first six months at sea.