16
I took Patrick’s hand and walked out. On our way down the stairs, we ran into Michael, hauling a heavy ba
of rice.
He asked where I was going. I didn’t even give him a second glance.
Michael got home two hours after I did. The living room was dark. I had already given Patrick a bath and tucked him into bed.
“Mommy, Grandpa called me an ungrateful brat. What does that mean?”
“You’re not an ungrateful brat, Patrick. You’re Mommy’s sweet, wonderful boy. Why don’t you let Buddy sleep with you tonight?”
I tucked the blanket around him and went back to the living room.
The room was dark. Michael was sitting alone on the balcony, the cold wind whipping around him, turning
his hands red.
3/12
I brought him a hot water bottle. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” I said softly.
Michael ran a hand through his hair. “I messed up. If I had known, I never would have let them raise him.”
I patted his shoulder. “You can’t be everywhere at once. There will always be times when you can’t be there for him.”
“It’s cold out here. Come inside.”
“Clara.”
I turned.
“Thank you,” he said.
Honestly, I was the one who should be thanking him. He’d given me a son, free of charge.
From that day on, Patrick officially became my son, and Michael became his stepdad.
“Patrick, get it through your head, she’s my wife!”
“I know that. But Mommy loves me. Mommy knits scarves for me. Mommy takes me to school.”
“And I’m always here with her. What about you? You’re nothing!”
Michael would get so furious. Every night, he’d sneak into my room and carry Patrick back to his own bed.
But every morning, Patrick would magically reappear in my bed.
This cold war between father and son lasted for two years. When Patrick started second grade, Michael lai down the law: no more sleeping in our bed.
“You’re in second grade, you know that? You’re a big boy now. Haven’t you ever heard of personal space?”
Patrick just grinned at me cheekily. “Mommy, what’s he talking about?”
He didn’t even call him Dad anymore.
Michael was fuming. He grabbed Buddy, wrapping his arms around the dog’s neck to complain.
“They’re ganging up on me. It’s just us against the world, girl.”
Buddy coolly wriggled out of his grasp and trotted over to lie down at my feet.
I laughed out loud.
