“And?”
“And what, Mom?”
“I’ve heard all about the fun things that Jagger is getting to do—swimming and kayaking and learning to play the guitar—but you’re not telling me about you. About Vince. About how it’s going in general . . . if it’s going at all.”
I sigh and then smile as Jagger’s and Vince’s mutual laughter carries over to me from where they’re huddled in the fort they built. It’s a tent with a cardboard box set as a tunnel entrance to fight off space invaders—meaning girls—since only boys can enter. “He’s really good with him, Mom. Like I wonder how this is something he didn’t want when he is so completely natural with him.”
“He was scared of repeating the cycle. Maybe he’s seeing that it’s something you choose, not something you’re ordained to be.”
“It hurts in the best way possible to watch them together. To realize how much Jagg needed a male figure in his life. I tried to be that for him, but there is no substitute for the real thing.”
“Do you think Jagger has any clue who Vince is?”
“On some subconscious level, maybe, but otherwise, no.”
“But he likes him?”
“Who doesn’t like Vince?” I ask. McMann had one thing right—they wanted him everywhere—and right now, thanks to that viral video from San Francisco, he’s freaking everywhere. And instead of being out promoting his new single, he’s here, with us. With Jagger.
Actions speak louder than words and right now those actions are unmistakable. He loves Jagger. He might not be able to recognize it, but it’s clear as day for those of us watching from afar.
I’m just trying not to get my hopes up about what the future holds.
“True.” She clears her throat. “But . . .”
“But what?”
“Where does everything stand?”
“The ball is in his court. How can it not be given the situation?”
“But you’ve talked about everything?”
“Yes and no.” I know that answer is going to frustrate her so I elaborate. “I blindsided him, Mom. I ripped the rug out from underneath him, so I have no choice but to stand back and let him find his footing.”
“But how are you?”
I sniffle. “I don’t have a right to be anything. You told me when I made the decision that Vince had a right to know. In hindsight, yes, he did, but I can’t live looking backward. All I can hope is that he feels the same way. For Jagger’s sake.”
“And for yours.”
I nod but she can’t see it. “Jagger is who matters right now. What’s best for him is what I am focused on.”
“You’re worried he’s going to walk away, aren’t you?”
“I’m worried because that’s always what Vince does when things get too tough. But then I see them together—their smiles, their laughter, their bond after only two weeks—and I can’t help but hold out hope. I can’t help but see a future.”
“Maybe in some skewed way, Jagger will prove to Vince that he is enough. Maybe that will be all he needs to stop running.”
“Is that enough to overcome years of thinking otherwise?” I sigh. I’m so sick of thinking about this, worrying about this, obsessing about this. I would say I just want my life back to the way it was, but then I stop and take stock and realize this has been a taste of what it could be. I don’t know what’s worse though. Having a taste of it and then it being yanked away or never knowing what it’s like at all.
“He’ll forgive you,” she murmurs.
But I want more than forgiveness. Every minute that we’re here, that I watch him with our son, I fall more in love with him. More than I already was.
Forgiveness is just a small part of the whole that I want. That we deserve.
But I can’t tell him that. I can’t add that pressure when I’ve already created enough.
All I can do is stand by with my heart in my hands and wait to see if he still wants it. If he still wants us.
“I can hope.”
“He’s a good man, Bristol. He just needs to see it. Once he does, he’ll be everything you need and more.”
And if he doesn’t?
That’s the question I’m afraid to put words to.
“Momma?”
I startle and look to my right where Jagger is getting a piggyback ride from Vince. “I have to go,” I say to my mom. “What’s up, buddy?” I make sure to focus on Jagger instead of Vince.
“We’re going to go out on the boat.”
“Oh, okay.” I smile. The boat ride has become their daily adventure together. They explore inlets. They stop, dock, and get ice cream cones at the store on the other side of the lake. They jump off in the middle of it and pretend they are pirates. They sing music at the top of their lungs. Funny enough, the songs that Jagger asks to be repeated over and over are Bent songs. Songs he’s told Vince he knows from watching them on television with me. “Do you need me to get you some snacks for the trip? Some sunscreen?”
“No, I want you to go with us,” he says.
“Oh.” My smile falters as I figure out how to extricate myself from their time together. I’ve managed pretty well thus far, having excuses on the ready so that Jagger doesn’t feel like I don’t want to go with them, but rather that I simply can’t for one reason or another. The last thing Jagger needs is to sense tension between us or for Vince to feel like I’m forcing his hand. “Thanks, buddy, but I’ve got some studying to do. My old professor offered to help—”
“Studying can wait, can’t it?” Vince asks. “We want you to come with us.”
“Vince?” I meet his eyes.
“I want you to come with us.” He nods, almost as if telling me this is the start of whatever might be next for whatever this is.
At least I think that’s what he’s telling me.
“You sure?” I ask.
“I’m sure.”
His words hit me in the best way. They weave into my soul and wrap around my heart. They tell me this just might be the beginning I had hoped for instead of the ending I’ve worried about.
“Okay.”
“Yay! Momma’s coming with us.”
The ride is everything I thought it would be from my observations on the shore. A lot of Jagger pointing at Vince and telling him where to go. Even more of Vince ruffling Jagger’s hair and explaining things to him. There is even Vince putting Jagger on his lap and letting him drive the boat. The look on Jagger’s face—pride edged with worry—as he glanced my way every few seconds now that one of their secrets was out.
But more than anything were the few times I’d catch Vince looking at me. Our eyes would meet and a soft smile would curl up the corners of his lips.
I was content with that. In fact, I was thrilled with the baby steps it felt like we’d taken forward. It was more than enough for me . . . or so I thought.
Then Vince goes and steals more than my heart. He offers me hope too, when he looks at me and says, “This feels right, Shug,” followed by the softest smile I’ve ever seen on his face.
Yes, Vince. This really is real.
I want to tell him that and so much more. Like how each day he grows closer with Jagger, he’s proving his father wrong. That he’s not a worthless human being. That he’s a good man, a talented man, and that more than anything else, he deserves this. Love. A family to call his own. A future with us.
I want him to be a part of our lives. Always. I just don’t know whether he’ll ever want the same thing.
I’m hoping this moment is an indication. A glimpse of what could be.
An amended, hope-filled verse to his sweet regret.
