Chapter 7 - LEARNING MY SON
I knew Evan’s blood.
I did not know Evan.
Not really.
He hated bananas.
Loved astronomy.
Slept with one sock on and one off.
Refused ketchup.
Collected transit maps.
Was afraid of dogs larger than his knees.
Could solve complicated Lego mechanisms without instructions.
Cried when angry but almost never when sad.
The first time he stayed with me for an afternoon without Adrian, I planned everything.
Museum.
Lunch.
Robot lab.
Dessert.
Evan walked into my condo, saw my enormous couch, and asked:
“Can we just stay here?”
So we stayed.
He found my soldering station.
“What’s that?”
“Where I make prototypes.”
“Can I try?”
“Not without safety glasses.”
We spent four hours building a useless little motorized vehicle that drove in circles.
He named it Gerald.
At dinner, he asked:
“Did you think about me every day?”
I considered lying beautifully.
Instead:
“No.”
His face changed.
I continued quickly.
“There were days I worked so hard I forgot everything.”
“Days I laughed.”
“Days I slept.”
“Days I didn’t think about you until night.”
He stared.
“Is that bad?”
“No.”
“It means grief didn’t erase my whole life.”
“But I never forgot you existed.”
He nodded.
Then:
“I don’t think about Vivian every day either.”
There it was.
A child worried forgetting meant betrayal.
I said:
“That doesn’t mean you love her less.”
He looked relieved.
Then:
“Can I call you Mom?”
My heart stopped.
“You can call me Emily.”
“Mom.”
“Mom Emily.”
“Whatever feels right.”
He thought.
Then:
“Emily for now.”
It hurt.
I smiled.
“Emily for now.”
Two months later, he called from school.
I answered.
“Hi.”
“Mom?”
I froze.
He continued without noticing.
“Adrian says you’re picking me up because his meeting exploded.”
My eyes filled.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be there.”
He hung up.
I sat in my car for five minutes before driving.
Some milestones arrive without warning.
May you like
That one was mine.
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