Another thing that kept me up last night aside from home repairs, house cleaning, and my late return time from the diner?
Rawley.
Because yesterday at work, his tutor called me and informed me that Rawley hasn’t been showing up for tutoring. The tutoring that is costing me one hundred twenty dollars a week. Pre-paid. The kid didn’t call me to rat Rawley out, but he called to quit if it happens one more time. Apparently, he enjoys tutoring and felt bad taking my money for nothing. He’s got a new student he’s working with starting next week, and is dropping Rawley from his roster unless Rawley starts showing up.
“Good morning, son,” I say to Tanner, smiling pleasantly.
Tanner smiles, but not comfortably. “Uh oh.”
My eyes slide to Rawley, who is already watching me. He’s feeling me out. I’ve been a mom long enough to know thedoes she know what I knowlook. I fold my arms over my chest as he brings his first bite of egg to his mouth.
“How’s the tutoring going?” I ask, my smile unwavering, unlike the flash of anger inside me. Rawley of all the boys knows how tight it is for us. He knows the struggle I often face keeping all the bills paid, and all of them in their respective sports and interests. I always do, even if it means no days off for an entire month. A few times I’ve even delivered for the florist and bakery to pick up extra scratch.
I have to remind myself that while I’d love for him to be thoughtful and considerate of my time, hard work and finances, he’s a junior in high school.
He points to his mouth with his fork, indicating that he can’t possibly speak with his mouth full. I roll my eyes. “Rawley! Damn it! I prepaid that kid. And it took me weeks to find him! Weeks! That’s like every lunch hour I had for the last month making phone calls and searching through the paper. And guess what? He told me this morning that if you don’t show up to tutoring today, he’s gonna quit!” I throw my hands in the air. “What then? I don’t have time to find a newtutor, not one I can actually afford. We need the tutor, Rawley. We need to work on those scores.”
He swallows his bite and sips the orange juice I set out for him. “Look,” he starts, holding his palms out horizontally, steady, trying to will me to calm down. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I feel shitty about that,” he starts, and then Tanner pipes up.
“He does, he did. He told me he hated lying to you,” he says on his brother’s behalf.
“I gotta pee,” Archie declares, sliding out of his seat with a clump of scrambled eggs in his fist.
“Leave the eggs,” I order before turning my focus back to the other boys. “Tanner, mind your business.” I send him a pointed warning look before refocusing on Rawley.
My first baby.
My sweet, talented boy. He’s always loved the arts, writing poems and song lyrics, sketching flowers and boots. I knew from a young age that he was sharp, but didn’t give a lick about pursuing education. I knew my job as his mama would be keeping him on track until he was old enough to pursue whatever lies in his heart, and I always knew that he would likely divert from higher education. Still, it’s important he doesn’t close that door. You never know what lies ahead, and having that SAT score under his belt is an opportunity for more should he ever want it.
“I’m sorry, mom,” he starts, his blue eyes mirroring mine. All of the boys have my wide, blue eyes, set a little farther apart. He shoves his hand through his hair, and I spot “I LOVE YOU” scrawled across his palm, likely from Jo Jo. He’s growing up—and all the evidence is right in front of me. The hair sprouting up on his chin and above his lip, how much care he takes in doing things for Jo Jo and the maturity that love has helped him find, the extra inch he shot up after I wassure he was done growing, the depth his voice has found. He’s growing up. And I’m not trying to hold onto him being young through controlling his choices. That’s not it at all.
I let out a sigh, one that could move mountains. But right now, Rawley is my only mountain to move, and he sits unwavering in my 70s rattan kitchen chair.
“Rawl, I’m not pushing the SAT because I’m forcing you to go to college against your will. I’m not trying to control your future, or even the course of your adulthood. I promise, I’m not that mom.” I look between him and Tanner. “Have I ever been that mom?”
Their heads shake in unison, lifting some heaviness from my heart.
“Right. I’m only pushing that you take this test for your own good, Rawley. What if three years after you graduate from high school you decide you don’t like trade school, or apprenticeship, or the instability of being a working musician, and you want to try college. At that point, without an SAT score or junior college transcripts, getting in will be that much more difficult. And at that age, grants and scholarships are out the window.” I let out a sigh, one this time I hope steadies my racing heart. “I just want you to take the SAT so the door is open if you ever do want to try college.”
Tanner’s brows pull together. “Rawl’s band is just for fun. He doesn’t want to be a musician.”
I narrow my eyes. “I know that, Tanner. It was an example.” I look at Rawley, who nods his head in consolation, his eyes lined with guilt.
“Mom, I’m never going to want to go to college. I know that with 100% certainty.”
“Honey, there is nothing you can know with 100% certainty, not in life.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “You’ll always love your kids, nomatter what, that’s what you always say. You know that with certainty don’t you?”
I have the strongest urge to roll my eyes, but this time, I don’t. “Of course, but loving your children isn’t a choice. I love you three boys no matter what. This isn’t the same, so please, don’t try to split hairs.” Thenewcoffee pot beeps, indicating it’s completed brewing. My veins hum in anticipation. I sneak a deep breath through my nose and exhale through barely cracked lips.
“You’re going to pay me back for the missed sessions. And you’re gonna show up today, too. And then, next year, when it’s time, you’re gonna take the SAT. I will pay for it and you will sit in the chair for however many hours, with a number two pencil, and you will take the freaking test, Rawley Matthew.”
“First and middle name,” Tanner says under his breath after I turn to pour myself a cup of coffee. “You really messed up.”
Rawley clears his throat, the first move he always makes when he wants to argue. But I clear mine louder, and Tanner all but quits with the peanut gallery.
“Rawley,” I say, watching the black, steaming liquid fill my chipped, porcelain WORLD'S GREATEST AUNT mug. I don’t have siblings. I am not an aunt. Rawley got it for me at the book fair in 3rd grade because they didn’t have MOM. “Don’t push me. I’m exhausted. I worked twelve extra shifts to pay this kid. Just… Don't fight me on this.”
