Page 41 of Caught in Us
His eyes stare back at me, wide and deep brown, so much like my own.
Fuck. This is hard. I wish I could pull him into my arms, but he already appears unimpressed. I make it my personal mission to win him over, no matter what it takes. “You like my truck? It’s pretty cool, huh?”
His eyes twinkle with interest. “Truck!”
“Can you hand him up to me?” Alicia says from the open door.
“You wanna go for a ride in my truck with Mommy?” I hold out my arms.
“Yes!” he says, his little mouth adding an extra sound to the word so it comes out more like yesh. Adorable. Seriously, I know I’m biased, but could this kid be any cuter?
“Up you go.” I pick him up and walk the few steps to Alicia.
He reaches for her and is out of my arms all too soon. Emotion simultaneously constricts and expands my breath. Regret. Fear. Hope. I feel everything. It’s something that wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t sober. It’s moments like these when my brain doesn’t know which to prefer. Experiencing life in all its highs and lows is a gift and a curse. But long ago I vowed to always choose the more feeling path. Even if it hurts. I never want to numb myself again. Life is too precious. I refuse to take any of these moments for granted.
“Okay, he’s buckled and ready to go.” Alicia hops down from the back seat.
I open the front passenger door.
She doesn’t quite meet my gaze as she climbs inside, the nervous energy pulsating between us.
Eager to push past this newness and find comfortable common ground, I walk around the truck to get behind the wheel. I really hope this museum thing isn’t a bust. I think some laughter and fun will do us good. “I was thinking we could check out this children’s museum?” I start my truck and begin pulling out of the long private drive. “It’s supposed to be great.”
“Sure.” She picks at her nails, glancing back at Matthew. “Yeah.”
Shit. Maybe I’ve already messed up. “Unless you think he won’t like it?” I glance into my rear mirror, worry twisting my gut. The last thing I want is to disappoint him. “Would something else be better?” I pull to a stop at the end of the drive, now unsure if I should follow the route to the museum.
“It’s good, Chase.” Alicia rests her fingers lightly on my forearm, dropping them after she draws my gaze to hers. Her smile is gentle. “He’s two. He’ll love anywhere we go.”
“Go! Go!” Matthew cheers from the back. It’s the perfect icebreaker and some of the tension falls away.
“Okay, buddy.” I check the rearview window, smiling at the pure excitement on his face. “Let’s go.” Moving the gearshift to park, I rev the engine a few times, earning a few claps of approval from Matthew.
“Oh, my God.” Alicia laughs, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be a showoff.”
“I can’t help it,” I tease, shifting into drive and pulling onto the street with caution. The drive is quick, and the entire time I feel Alicia’s stare. I wonder if her mind is full of questions she wishes she could ask. Mine sure is. I want to fill in all the gaps from the last three years. From the simple things like whether she still runs from birds, to much bigger ones like whether she sees herself staying in London or would she consider moving back to Richmond.
I don’t know what the future looks like, but I can’t imagine living on another continent from my child. My life is here. Hers is there. Fuck. I need to research work visas.
But those are worries for later.
Today is about staying present and giving these two people my full attention.
* * *
“Mama! Go! Up! Up!”Matty laughs and commands Alicia to hold him higher so his little arms can reach up to the top of the current exhibit we’ve been at for a good twenty minutes. A raceway with ramps connects to a climbing structure where the kids can send little wooden cars down to race each other. Of course, Matthew prefers the ramp he can’t quite reach, so Alicia is on the play structure with him while I fetch the toy cars and hand them up.
Thankfully, the museum is pretty dead. Most of the families cleared out around lunchtime but because Matthew was having so much fun we decided to stay a little longer. After a quick bite from the snack bar he was recharged and ready to go, but his lack of a nap is starting to show.
“Mama, go!” he shouts, more impatient with his demand.
“We’re going. We’re going,” she says, hoisting him up so he can drop a truck onto the ramp.
He squeals, his laughter infectious, cheering as it rolls to a stop by my feet.
I pick it up and walk back over, handing it off to his greedy little hands. “He could do this all day.” I laugh.
“Hours.” She nods, her smile a mix of pride and exhaustion. “Repetition is what this age is all about.”
