Page 4 of Wild Mistake
“Do you really have to work again today?” Parker sighs again. “Grandma and Grandpa are nice and all, but I think they’re getting tired of feeding us.”
“What?” I frown, capping the mascara. “Why would you think that?”
“Because last night, Grandma muttered that she was tired of feeding us,” Parker says, but quickly amends, “She didn’t know I could hear her.”
I resist the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose. This living arrangement isn’t desirable, and I’m afraid after two months we’ve already worn out our welcome. I feel a headache coming on. “Why don’t you and your brother come by the diner after the lunch rush? You can pick whatever you want off the menu.” They’re probably growing tired of my mom’s cooking anyway.
“For real?” Parker almost appears excited.
Damn, they are bored out of their minds.
“Walk?” My oldest blanches.
I close my eyes and take in a deep breath before turning to meet Gabe’s eyes. “Yes, that’s generally how one gets from point A to point B.”
His face pinches with irritation, but he doesn’t respond, instead taking his AirPods from their case and placing them in his ears. He slinks into the back of his chair and brings the brim of his hat down to cover his eyes.
Guilt floods my veins. He’s unhappy here; they both are. I can’t even blame them. I’ve ripped away the only life they’ve ever known. Their school. Their friends. Their routine. But I don’t know what other options I have.
Until the divorce is finalized and their father finally starts paying child support, I have nothing other than the meager paycheck from the diner. Until our assets are sold and the proceeds split, the free lodging of my parents’ travel trailer will have to do—a trailer that’s currently parked behind their modest home in the town of Wilder Valley, where I grew up.
When the boys were young, they used to love this place. It was novel sleeping in the trailer for a long weekend. They always argued over who got the top bunk. Now they just argue. Those times were simpler, for all of us.
I finish doing my makeup and bite back a groan as I reach down for my shoes. My entire body aches, but a darting pain races down my leg. That’s new. The last thing I should be doing is spending another day on my feet, but I won’t let my boys see me suffer. This is hard enough on them. I refuse to add my health issues to their worries. But as I tie my shoes I wonder for the thousandth time if I made a mistake. Maybe I should have stayed. Maybe I could have looked the other way. It would have been easier on all of us.
That thought sends a fresh wave of anger through my mind.
No. No, I will not feel bad about my decision to leave.
He’s the one who cheated. He’s the one who ruined what we had, not me.
Pain pulses along the arches of my feet as I stand. “I only have the lunch shift today so I should be back by four. If you need anything—”
“Find Grandma or Grandpa or call the diner,” my youngest parrots my usual instruction.
My lips pinch with the hint of a smile. “Right. You’ve got this.”
He glances at his brother, who still hasn’t moved. “Maybe we will come see you today.”
“The offer is open.” I force a smile. “And it’s pecan pie day.” Parker’s favorite.
His eyes light up, but he bites his lower lip as he sneaks another glance at Gabe. The need to be loyal to his older brother over his own needs has always caused some tension, but lately it’s been worse. I try not to take it personally.
“If you don’t make it, I’ll bring you back a slice.” I reach for my jacket and zip it up over my uniform.
“Thanks, Ma.”
“I love you.” I slide the strap of my purse over my shoulder and retrieve my keys.
“Love you, too,” he mumbles.
“And I love you, Gabe,” I say a little louder, but he’s either asleep or ignoring me. I walk out the door but turn back to Parker before reaching my car. “Stay out of trouble today. Make good choices.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He grins from the doorway and waves back at me, watching as I climb into the front seat of my car.
Thankfully, the old Nissan starts without any issues. If it breaks down again, I have no money to fix it. I push the depressing thought from my mind, but worries about money flood my thoughts regardless. It’s Christmas next week, and I don’t know what I am going to do. The boys are used to expensive gifts and family trips that cost more than I’ll make this entire year. I know it’s only money. The important things—my children, food in our bellies, clothes on our backs, and a safe place to stay—are what matter most.
But I don’t think my boys have the wisdom and maturity to appreciate that. They’ll be disappointed to not get the latest video game console, new shoes, and brand-new clothes. They’ll be disappointed to be with me, without their dad.
