"I am not afraid of storms, for I'm learning how to sail my ship."
- Louisa May Alcott, Little Women
_________
"Honey, are you sure about the piano lessons?"
My son stares at me with my sea-blue eyes, his small face stubborn as his head raises from his notepad, his voice low. "I want to learn, mom."
I have nothing to say to it. Although I don't want to push him, he likes being pressurized himself. He caught on to his first-grade reading level scarily fast. I tell myself I am not going to push him too far all the time but he chooses that himself.
With my fork suspended in the mid-air, I ask, "Do you want me to call Mrs. Norris today?"
"Not today. I have hockey tryouts." He digs into his breakfast, taking time only to look into his notepad once in a while. It distracts me from my laptop screen a bit.
"What do you have in there, Silas?"
"Oh, nothing much."
He doesn't make the move to hide it from me, nor does he show me. I try to poke. But, he only shrugs for which I scold myself. Then I think it's merely natural for me to be curious about what my five-year-old is up to. I'm ashamed when I step around the kitchen counter and look into his backpack after he leaves to brush his teeth. I have just one minute before I go to check if he did brush his teeth or not.
It's a sketchbook and the last drawing is of a disfigured hand, a female's from the thinness. I recognize it's mine from the pear-shaped ring. It makes my stomach flip slightly to see the ring from another point of view. It's already depressing to see that I hold on to things too much.
I go to check on Silas anyway.
"Silas, the brush didn't go there." I am frowning with my hand on his chin, my eyes observing his mouth. He doesn't like my comment but obliges, holding up the brush. Though I scrutinize him through the mirror, I am still thinking how he shrugged the matter of his sketchbook away. So casual, yet secretive.
It exasperates me to the highest level where I'm helpless. My son has ways to shut me out which resemble uncannily to his father's ways. It's a feeling of being excluded like I am an outsider.
"There's a Rangers vs Islanders game today in case you forgot," I add hopefully once we are in the kitchen, Silas rummaging through his backpack while I am relieved to see Eamon behind the counter. Bags of groceries are perched on the marble.
"Will you watch with me?"
"Yes, baby, I will." My eyes are on Eamon.
I want to wash my own plate but I have grown too lazy for that. As I sit beside Silas, letting Jason drive this morning, I am contemplating.
My days are exceptionally dull, scheduled and predictable. I've nothing but meetings, though I am attending gym this morning instead of the evening. And yes, Silas has his tryouts and a parent's presence is mandatory for safety reasons.
He wants to play pro one day.
Even my five-year-old has his career figured out (for now) while I glide through my days, still thinking if business is even good for me.
"Mom, no!" Silas protests at my attempt at kissing him on the cheek when he climbs down the car. Several kids halt a few feet away, smirking to themselves, George being one of them. I let him go instinctively. The last thing I'd want is to be the reason my son gets bullied. I know I can tell them to leave Silas alone, mention a few consequences but I'm not in the school to see or prevent anything.
YOU ARE READING
Here's to Us (Blood Money #2)
Romance"What we had is over, Dawn. You don't have to do this anymore. You're free to go." I traced the glass separating us with my fingers, looking into his green eyes and whispered to the phone, "So you want to know why I'm still here?" He just stare...
