Mistakes We Made

Chapter Three - Emma

“Go put your book bag down at the table and change into some play clothes,” I instructed John when we walked into the house.

I looked around the living room and sighed. It was a wreck. I was in the process of sorting through everything. I was boxing up things that belonged to my mother so I could give them to her before she ran off again, but I was also going through my grandmother's stuff. There were things that I would like to keep, things that Bridgit would want, and a lot of useless junk. My grandmother was a bit of a hoarder.

I was also in the process of moving into her bedroom. Our house only had two, so up until her death, my grandmother had the bedroom that she and my grandfather had always used, while John and I shared my bedroom, that I too had once shared with my own mother. It was way more work than I had anticipated and I was halfway tempted to chunk most of the junk out into the yard and light it on fire. But the sane part of my brain told me that a bonfire was probably not a good idea.

John moved around a stack of boxes as he entered the room and smiled, “Can we keep the house like this? It's a jungle.”

I chuckled, “Mama can't keep living like this. I don't like climbing over all of this stuff.”

“Why not? It's fun.”

I ruffled his hair, “Come on, munchkin, let's see what you have to do for your homework.”

He sat down in his booster seat at the kitchen table while I checked his folder. I set down a piece of paper that only had 6 large spaces. It was different from regular paper, it was specifically designed for children who was learning to write. They called it cornbread paper when I was in Pre-K, though I have no idea why. I think it's technically called multisensory lined paper.

“You've got to write your name 5 times.”

His eyes bugged out and lifted his hand to show me five fingers, “Five times?”

I nodded my head, “That's right.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, you have to. If you do a good job, then you'll have time to watch a show before supper.”

He let out out a hufff and began to carefully trace over his name, that the teacher had written at the top of the page. Since school was just starting, they were only working on the first names. The teacher said it was too much on the children to try to write their first and last name at the beginning of the year. After the 1st line, he paused to ask for a snack. After he finished the 2nd and 3rd lines, he stopped to get a drink. On line 4, he had a break down because he didn't write the H correctly and I made him re-do it. When he finally wrote his name for the 5th time, I let out a sigh of relief. Boy, who knew Pre-K could be so tough?

He ran to go get his toy tractors and settled on the living room floor to play, while he watched an episode of Mickey Mouse and I took a five minute break. I changed out of my scrubs and joined him in the living room, where I laid down on the ground next to him and watched him mumble to himself as he moved the trucks and tractors around. After a moment, I forced myself to sit up and be productive. I kissed the top of his head and began to pack up more boxes, while I contemplated what to fix for dinner. I didn't have many options, because I really needed to go grocery shopping.

“John, what do you want to eat tonight?”

“Chicken nuggets.” He replied, never looking away from his toys.

I shook my head. Of course. I should have known that answer. That was what he always wanted. I taped another box shut and wrote “Keep” on the top with a list of it's contents, then moved it next to the back door so I could put it in the storage shed. The next box, I carried out on the front porch and threw it into the bed of my grandfather's ‘89 Ford pick up, which was backed up to the porch steps. That pile was going to the dump later on. Just because I couldn't burn it, didn't mean that I was going to keep it.

I went back inside and started filling another box. I still had a ways to go to get the house like I wanted, but the cleaning had been a welcome distraction. I was in the middle of packing up a stack of almanacs from the 90’s (because why would I need those?) when someone knocked at my backdoor. I hoisted myself up, but John beat me to it. He had it unlatched and open before I was even fully off the ground.

“Hello,” He said, “Come on in,”

I cringed. The house was in no shape for visitors.

Melissa McCauley peeked her head into the house and gave me an apologetic smile, “Is this a bad time?”

“No ma'am. You can come in. Just please excuse the mess.” I motioned around me. Surely it must have looked like a tornado had gone through my house.

She stepped inside, her arms laden with containers, “You know I couldn't resist bringing food.”

She was a firm believer in the magic of food. In her mind, nothing was ever too bad that an apple pie and ice cream couldn't fix it. She set the covered dishes down on the counter, then bent down to hug John. He allowed her to do this and then he moved over to examine what she had brought.

“You didn't have to do all of that,” I said.

“I know, but I just wanted to check in on you and I hate to show up anywhere empty handed. I made you a roast with potatoes and a butter cake.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Melissa,” I moved to hug her.

“You're welcome. How have you been doing?”

I ran my fingers through my hair, “I'm better. I miss her a lot, but I'm glad I have John to keep me company.”

“Little boys have a way of making you feel better, don't they?”

“How are your boys?” I asked to be polite.

I had dated her elder son 5 years ago, during my senior year of high school. He was a sophomore attending community college an hour away. We only dated 5 months before we broke up that July, because he was transferring to a school 5 hours away. We hadn't talked since, except for a few “hellos” every now and again when we ran into each other. Her younger son Jace was my age and while we had been decent friends in high school, that ended when college started as well.

“They're both good. Kade is getting married next June and Jace has started taking some online classes. He doesn't know what he wants a degree in yet though.”

My eyebrows rose. Jace McCauley in college, I never saw that one coming, but I simply said, “I'm really happy for both of them.”

“Thank you. Anyways, I won't stay long. I'm sure you want to feed your little one. But you call me if you need anything or feel free to drop by anytime. Your grandmother was a sweet lady and I know everyone around here is going to miss her.”

“Thanks for checking on us.” I ruffled John's hair as he leaned against me. He didn't like to be left out of the conversation.

“It was good to see you, Emma.” She hugged me once more, then bent down so that she was eye level with my son. She tickled his belly lightly, just enough to make him smile, “You're a cute little fella, did you know that?”

He nodded his head, “My mama told me so.”

Mrs. Melissa laughed. I bit back a smile and tapped his shoulder so he would look up at me, “You're supposed to say thank you.”

He turned back to our guest, “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” She stood, then looked to me, “You take care of yourself.”

After she left, John and I sat down to enjoy the food that she brought, especially the butter cake. At 8, I gave John a bath and then tucked him into bed. I wandered back into the living room with the intention of packing up more stuff, but I didn't have the energy. So I just flopped down onto the sofa and stared at the ceiling. What an odd evening it had been.

As a general rule, I typically avoided the McCauley family. Although, Kade and I had a polite break up, we decided that there was no use in even pretending that we would be friends. And then, of course there was Jace, who was a living, breathing complication in the lives of everyone he ever met, especially mine. So, it had been years since I'd shared a proper conversation or anything more than a quick hello with Melissa, and yet, she showed up at my house out of the kindness of her heart to check on me. It was strange, I'll give you that, having my ex’s mom in my kitchen, but I was touched by her gesture.

******

A few days later, on Saturday morning, we had more visitors, and while Mrs. Melissa had been a pleasant surprise, these two were not. Quite honestly, I thought about slamming the door in their faces. But I could hear my grandmother's voice in my head, telling me to be nice, so I mustered up a smile and invited them in. Thankfully, I had managed to get the living room back in order, the bedrooms though, were still a disaster area.

“It's good to see you, sweetheart,” My mother pulled me into a tight hug.

“You're here mighty early,” I said, sneaking a glance at her companion.

He appeared to be a few years older than her and that exact opposite of her usual type. But, then again, what did I know about her type? He had dark hair that was starting to get gray patches. By the way he was dressed, I could tell that he was not from the area or anywhere near it. He clearly had not packed clothes suitable for the Georgia heat. He was wearing slacks, a collared shirt, and shoes that probably cost more than I spent on groceries in a month, which suddenly made me very conscious of my oversized, paint stained t-shirt and jeans shorts, both of which had probably been purchased from Goodwill.

“Well Rollins flew in last night and I couldn't wait to introduce you,” She motioned for the man to move toward us, “Honey, this is my daughter, Emma and Emmie, this is my husband, Rollins Fitzpatrick.”

“It is nice to meet you, Emma. Your mother has told me a lot about you.” He said, offering me a smile.

“It's nice to meet you too,” I said to him, then turned my gaze back to my mom, “Did you say husband?”

She smiled and nodded, “We got married back in February, right after we moved to New York.”

“Mama can we have waffles,” John entered the living room, rubbing his eyes. His favorite blanket was wrapped around him even though the house was warm. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed that we were not alone.

“Oh my goodness!” Bridgit exclaimed, “He has gotten so big! And look at how adorable he is. Isn't he just adorable, Rollins?”

John's face morphed into one of fear as she went to him and picked him up. He looked to me with wide eyes. The message was clear - help me. Not that he had to ask, I wasn't exactly keen on my mother holding him and pretending to be grandmother of the year for her husband. I reached for him and he practically jumped into my arms.

“He just woke up, Mom, and he's not really a morning person,”

“Oh right,” She said, like she already knew this information, “Don't you remember me, John? I'm your nana.”

He kept his arms wrapped tightly around my neck and stared at her. He had no intention of letting go of me or answering her.

“He hasn't seen you since his 2nd birthday,” I reminded her. My grandmother had always made me send his birthday invitations to Bridgit’s last known location. She had only shown up for his first two birthdays. She had sent cards for the past two years. With the exception of his birthdays, she had only visited John twice. She saw him for the first time when he was 5 months old and then showed up for his first Christmas. He mainly saw her in the many photo albums that Mema kept around the house.

“Oh don't be dramatic, Emmie, it has not been that long.” She waved off my comment and I bit back a retort.

I took a deep breath and counted to five in my head before saying, “Are you here to go through Mema's stuff?”

“Well yes, there are a few things that I wanted, but we also came to tell you that we're thinking about staying here and living in the house that Mom left me.”

“You hate Eastfield.”

“I did. But things are different now. Rollins and I are ready to settle down, and with Mom and Dad gone, I would love to be closer to you and John.”

I began to grit my teeth at the thought of having my mother around. I loved the woman, really, I did. She was my family after all, but 99.9999% of the time, I could not stand her and I did not necessarily like her. So no, I did not want her moving anywhere remotely close to me or my child. I mean seriously, the lady had the first 23 years of my life to try to be close to me and instead, she chose to travel the US.

When I did not respond, Rollins stepped in, “Why don't we take the two of you out to breakfast? It's early, we have all day to go through stuff and pack things up.”

Mom beamed at him, “That's a great idea. What do you say, Emmie? It'll give us a chance to catch up.”

I rolled my eyes, it would take way longer than one breakfast to catch her up, “Thank you, but not today.”

“Emma..” She started to object.

“Go enjoy your breakfast, I'll have all of your boxes sorted out of the shed when you get back and then you can choose what you would like to have of Mema's.” I waved them off, praying that they would take the hint that I was so obviously giving them. Bridgit looked like she was going to say something else, but her husband lightly touched her arm.

“Maybe next time then?” Rollins suggested.

I nodded, “Sure. Maybe next time.”

Mom moved toward me and kissed John on his forehead and then lightly touched my cheek, “I'll see you later.”

I closed the door behind them and moved to the window to watch until their truck disappeared from view. I let out as sigh as I set John down on the ground. He was getting too big for me to hold for extended periods of time.

“Can we have waffles now?”