Page 76 of Present Tense

“Not a metaphor. He flat-out makes killer-ass cupcakes, and I’m not so sure I want to go through the rest of my life without that kind of quality baked good in my life. For my sweet tooth’s sake, go get him back.”

I close the laptop and turn to him. “Not that easy. Did you study your pre-calc?”

“Not important right now.”

“Did you?”

“No, but this is way more important. Remember I heard that fight, and you shot him down. You told him whatever he said to me didn’t matter. And I did fuck up badly. It’s my fault.”

I sigh and head to the kitchen. He follows and I start to unload the dishwasher. I roll up my white T-shirt sleeves. “Language.”

He pulls my focus, and I see he’s wearing a T-shirt that’s huge on him. It’s a tie-dye shirt that has Vineyard Haven printed on it. “I got drunk. I did it. And he yelled at me and made sense. You grounded me and ignored what I had to say.”

“Let’s not compare our parenting styles. My word reigns supreme, and you’re getting into some talking back territory. Watch yourself.”

“I’m sorry. I just miss him. And I think he’s gone because I screwed up. I screwed up a lot. I don’t know why.”

My heart melts. “Bear, that wasn’t you. You’re not the reason. Oh. Please don’t think that.”

“I’m the reason you don’t date. And like, when you finally find a dude who I don’t freaking hate—I actually kind of like, but don’t like to show it—I screw up all the time. It’s totally on me.”

“No. None of this is.” My need to make sure everything is ok for everyone else is totally on me. “Got it. Just because I love you so much and don’t want you to have the childhood I did, doesn’t make it your fault. Do not take on my shit.”

“Language. But you’re overcorrecting.” He smiles, and I laugh and pull him into a hug. I kiss the top of his head, which is getting more difficult every day.

“Ethan, this is on me, and my issue to solve. But blowing off your Calc tutor, the drunk thing, the stealing money to buy more video games. That shit—and I’m an adult, I can say it—stops right here, right now. Do you understand me? I wish you’d tell me why you did all of that. It’s not who you and Ben are.”

“Ben was sick of being the good one. The one who never gets in trouble. Me too, and I thought if you had to deal with me it would make you and Liam, like, be parents or something dumb.”

“Dumb is right. You thought by being massively stupid, you’d turn Liam into a father?”

“Kinda worked. But I was thinking, like, you have always been the one to yell at me. Dad doesn’t. And Dad left, and you let him. And that’s fine. It’s not like he was ever that parent. But Liam did stuff like a dad would, and that still wasn’t enough for you.”

I am dumbfounded at this kid. Crap. We broke up because I inadvertently thought I had to do it all. I didn’t see it as clearly as my kid. I’m an asshole.

“You were happy. You would, like, sing and stuff.”

“Sing?”

“Yeah. You did it all the time. And you were lighter, if that’s a thing. Fletch knows all about your horrible annoying parts and loves you anyway. That seems like it’s the way things should be.”

I stand up and start making ice cream sundaes. He notices what I’m doing, goes to the cabinet, and grabs our banana split bowls we bought when he was little. I paid Margie’s Candies a fortune to let me purchase them from their shop. We use them for all occasions.

He grabs the sprinkles and nuts from the cabinet. I scoop, and he stands next to me, heating up the fudge in the microwave. We have this down to a science. Then he slices the bananas. I reach for the cherries. He puts extra whipped cream on both and tops them with nuts and colored sprinkles. I get spoons and turn to him.

“Are we drowning sorrows, contemplating punishing me, or celebrating?”

I smile at him. “All three. How do you know me better than I do?”

He shrugs and grabs his bowl. “I mean, I only have school, camp, my friends, and you to pay attention to. You have the whole world sitting on your shoulders. And I’m more observant than you.” I take the whipped cream and aim it at him. He just opens his mouth, and I fill it with Reddi-Wip.

“Perhaps I let some of the world slide off?”

He jokes, “You’d definitely have better posture.” I hip check him as we head to the living room.

I lick the spoon and dig in for another bite. “I told your grandfather to fuck off, and now my brother and uncles are mad I’m not taking care of him.”

“Mom. That’s awesome.” I open my mouth, and he fills it with Reddi-Wip. I talk through the mouth of whipped cream.