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“So, he doesn’t even know about me?”
This is where it gets tricky. How do I tell Clayton that his father did know about him, but it didn’t matter? I can’t hurt him like that. So, I lie. “I sent him a text message. Asked him to call me. He never did. Maybe he changed his number or something. I tried again, and the number was disconnected.”
Waylon Knight didn’t like responsibility, and I was one of a long list of women he’d slept with. He ran away from town and hasn’t returned since.
Clayton stands to get more pizza, piling his plate high with three more pieces. I watch him from my seat. His shoulders are curved in, his eyes only on his task. He’s processing, so I let him think for a moment.
Sitting back down, he looks at me. “Thanks for being honest.”
His words are a knife in the heart. I just can’t bear to tell him that his dad knows he exists and doesn’t care. That he didn’t want a relationship with Clay. He’s a great kid, and I’ve always tried to be enough. In the end, Waylon leaving town saved us both a lot of trouble.
I nod and pick up my pizza.
“Do you regret it? Sleeping with my dad?” He smirks, knowing the answer already. Clayton is too smart a boy not to know the answer.
“Well, not until you turned thirteen.” I grin at him, and he throws a piece of crust at me. “Hey now, don’t start a food fight.” I throw it back at him and hit him right on the forehead.
“I think I got my arm from you.” He sets the crust on the table.
“I never played a sport, but I like to think I’m athletic. Raising you improved my skills.”
Clayton was the kind of boy who had to do every single sport, even down to hip-hop dance. He settled on football. I’m not sure if that’s because it’s what this town is all about and he felt pressure, or if he really loves the sport.
“How about you tell me about Kait?”
He picks up his plate and heads into the kitchen, giving me my answer. “Mind if I go play video games?”
“Well, I’m here if you want to talk about anything.”
He walks over and wraps his arms around me from behind. “Thanks, Mom.”
I hold his arms, not wanting him to let go just yet. “You know you’re the best thing in my life, right?”
He chuckles and steps back. “I know. I’m awesome.”
He heads to his bedroom, and I finish eating my pizza alone at the kitchen table. Now that Clayton is older, I find myself alone a lot. Even with my busy schedule of work and studying for the bar exam, I’m discovering what my life might look like after Clayton graduates. And it’s a little lonely, if I’m honest.
I clean up the pizza and wipe down the table, the television beckoning me to watch one of the reality TV shows I love to binge, but there’s another pull inside me after today. Though I’m not sure why I enjoy torturing myself.
Lifting onto my tiptoes, I grab the box from the shelf in my closet. The box I should have burned a long time ago. I sit on my bed, for once thankful to overhear Clayton screaming at his friends about the game they’re playing because it gives me some privacy.
My hands tremble slightly as I open the lid of the box. It’s all there, as it was the last time I looked. Small notes Ben gave me in high school, either left in my locker or handed to me when we’d pass in the hallway. My corsage from prom, my prom queen sash. All the items that spur memories of my time with Ben. Pictures of us so young and naïve, thinking we’d found the love of our lives at such a young age. Last, the letters he’d written me while at Clemson. The scribbled love yous above his name.
My phone dings on the bed next to me with a text message.
Put away the box.
I set it all aside.
You’re scary.
No, I just know you. And I would’ve done the same.
Tell me why my anger toward him has waned since he returned.
That I don’t know. I’d be at Plain Daisy Ranch beating his ass.
I’ve hated Ben but yearned for him all at the same time. Yearned for the love we’d shared. Yearned for the connection I’ve never found with anyone else. But I’ll never tell him any of that. And I certainly won’t let anyone hurt me like that again.
