"What do you want to talk about?" I ask, looking around for a spoon.
"The pregnant elephant in the room."
"Oh."
I've been doing my bestnotto bring up that topic. Apart from when he checks in on his mom and I ask how she's doing, we haven't truly addressed it.
I'm hesitant to do so now.
Last time we were in a very similar situation, I lost him. I get that it's different this time. We're older, he's not about to set off for college, our families aren't disintegrating before our eyes, but it brings up so many painful memories of that time, I haven't been ready to deal with it.
Things between us have continued as normal, and I guess I was hoping I could bury my head, for as long as possible, in the sand.
Or his groin.
"How are you feeling about it?" he asks, passing me a compostable wooden spoon. "We haven't talked about it much. Actually, at all," he amends.
"A lot of what I'm feeling feels like déjà vu," I say, blowing across the top of my soup.
"Tell me about it. It's like we've jumped into a time machine and gone back thirteen, fourteen years. Have you spoken to anyone about it?"
"No. I really want to tell Howie, but he's back in Boston working to get back into game shape. I don't want to distract him with this."
"And your dad?"
"Nope. I've spoken to him a couple of times, but he hasn't said anything. Not that it's something you'd just casually drop into a conversation. 'So, what's been going on, Dad?' 'Oh, you know, Liz is working, the kids are great, and I decided to give up golf on Saturday with my buddies and get the woman I had an affair with over a decade ago pregnant. How are things with you?'" I let out another long breath, unfurling another puff of fog. "What about you?"
"I told Lola."
"How did she take it?"
"Pretty much the same way we did. I didn't think her opinion of Mom could sink any lower." He smiles weakly. "Turns out it can."
"This whole situation sucks."
"It really does. I just wanted to make sure you're okay. We shouldn't be afraid to talk about it. It doesn't change anything between us."
I stir my soup. "You promise?"
"Of course. Just because we're the product of the world's most chaotic parents, it doesn't mean that what they do reflects on us at all."
"Good." I lift my chin. "I've been thinking a lot about how you left last time our parents cheated."
"Hey." Court puts down his cardboard container filled with chili and shuffles over to sit next to me. "That had nothing to do with you. I was going to leave for college anyway, so I wentwith Dad a few months earlier because I didn't want to live with Mom."
"My brain knows that. It's my heart that needs to catch up."
"Well, then…" He places one hand over my heart and dips his head. "Listen to me, Buzz's heart, I didn't leave you. I would never leave you."
I appreciate him trying to make me feel better, but that doesn't stop his words from stirring up something sad anyway. Because hewillbe leaving. Not right this very moment, but in just a bit over three months when the condition in his grandfather's will expires. He'll be free to walk away, and I'll be…completely devastated.
"I know that. I feel better. Thanks," I say with a decisive sniff, clasping my gloved hand over his, wishing I could feel the warmth of his touch through all the layers we're wearing.
He dips his forehead and stares into my eyes, like he's done talking to surface-level me and is probing my soul. "You sure about that?"
"I am."
I can't tell whether he's clocking my bullshit or not. But he eventually gives a slight nod, takes his hand off me, and points at my soup. "Eat, or it'll get cold."
