Page 60 of Buttons

“You both did an amazing job,” Julian says. He’s genuinely impressed, I realize with a jolt. It’s like he’s seeing the children for what they are: children.

Leo approaches cautiously. “Buttons didn’t like us cleaning at first,” he explains, professional consultant to fellow professional. “But I showed him it wasn’t scary.”

Julian nods seriously. “That took patience. I’m impressed. How do you know his feelings about it changed?”

“Body language through his ears,” Leo replies.

I watch this exchange, waiting for Julian’s pivot to suggestions for improvement or placing unreasonable expectations, but it never comes. Instead, he listens.

“Leo,” Julian says after a moment, “How do you manage with all the cat hair? It doesn’t bother you?”

My defenses surge again. Listening about cat behavior is one thing, but messy clothes is something Julian will never get past. I wish I had seen him watching us while Leo and I worked on getting the fur off. As his mother, I step forward, ready tointercept what feels like an incoming criticism. But Leo answers before I say anything.

“I take deep breaths,” he says matter-of-factly. “And if I brush it off right away, it doesn’t get overwhelming.”

Julian nods, absorbing this information. “So you don’t mind if the fur isn’t completely off?”

“Nah,” Leo says. “If it’s a lot, then my skin itches, but as long as ‌most of the mess is gone, I’m okay.”

“Okay. Good for you for getting past it.”

I stare at him, temporarily speechless at his genuine engagement. Normally his idea of quality time is lectures.

“Would that approach work in other situations?” Julian asks. “For things besides cat hair?”

Leo considers this thoughtfully. “Maybe. It’s about catching the feeling before it gets too big, taking care of the mess, and then moving on.”

“That makes perfect sense,” Julian says. “I think adults could learn from that approach, too.”

I take a step closer, breaking the silence before I can lose my nerve. “You’re not trying to control his reactions and tell him what to do?”

Julian looks up, his gaze locking onto mine. “No.”

“And it doesn’t bother you that Leo isn’t perfectly clean?”

“I can’t control what other people do.”

I tilt my head, searching his face for a hint of the old Julian. “You never thought that before.”

“My wife hadn’t left me before.”

True. He couldn’t stop me from moving out or quitting his company. But I’m still surprised he’s talking about controlling what he can’t control. Could he actually be learning lessons?

Before the weight of his words can settle too heavily between us, Leo breaks the tension. “Do you want to meet Buttons?”

Once again, I’m floored. My cautious son is extending trust to the father who rarely had time for his interests beyond how to perfect them.

Julian nods, but then he glances at the concrete floor. It’s clean, but nothing is ever clean enough for Julian. Color me surprised for a third time today, because he removes his suit jacket, places it on the concrete, and then uses it to kneel on, as to not get dirt near him. Once thoroughly safe, he extends his hand slowly, just as Leo has demonstrated. The tabby sniffs his fingers, considers for a long moment, then bumps his head against Julian’s hand.

“He likes you!” Meredith says.

“I’m honored,” Julian replies.

I watch them, my mind struggling to reconcile this Julian with the man who scheduled fifteen-minute blocks of “quality time” with the children between conference calls. This man, kneeling in shelter dirt with cat hair on his suit sleeve and genuine curiosity in his eyes, is someone I’m not sure I’ve ever met before.

Either way, I don’t know what to do with this version of Julian. I clear my throat. “Well, thanks for stopping by. I’m sure you need to get back to the office.” Surely he’s not planning to linger at the animal shelter.

Julian’s gaze shifts from Leo to me, a strange hesitation crossing his features. He straightens into a full stand, no longer kneeling. “Actually,” he says, “I cleared my schedule for the afternoon.”