Chapter 10: What the Boys Said
I told them on Wednesday evening.
I asked all three to come over, and they did — Pete first, then Mike, then Justin, who arrived last and stood in the doorway of the living room like he wasn't sure he was allowed to sit down.
Brad was not there.
He had been sleeping in the guest room since Sunday and had left for work that morning without speaking to me.
I sat across from my three sons and I told them plainly.
Their father had been involved with a woman from his office for at least six months, possibly longer.
I had documentation.
I had spoken to an attorney.
I had asked their father to move out by the end of the week, and he had agreed.
The room was quiet for a moment.
Then Justin said, "Mom, I'm so sorry."
Mike put his face in his hands.
Pete looked at the floor.
"I should have told you sooner.
About the phone call with Garrett.
About what I heard."
"You did tell me," I said.
"When it mattered."
"Is there anything we can do?" Mike said.
"Yes," I said.
"I need you to not make this harder than it has to be.
I need you to be honest with your father about how you feel, but I don't need you to go to war on my behalf.
I'm handling it."
"What about the food truck?" Justin asked.
I looked at him.
He was the youngest.
Twenty-two.
He had laughed the loudest at the dinner table when I first mentioned it.
"What about it?" I said.
"Are you still doing it?"
"Yes," I said.
"Absolutely yes."
Something shifted in his face.
"I laughed at you," he said.
"When you brought it up.
I said something stupid about you already cooking all day."
"You did."
"I'm sorry." He said it quietly, without decoration.
"I didn't think about what it meant to you.
I just—I didn't think."
"I know," I said.
"Can I—" He stopped.
"Would you let me help?
With the truck.
I don't know anything about food, but I can learn.
I can do the heavy work, the setup, whatever you need."
I looked at my youngest son, who had laughed at my dream and was now offering his hands for it.
"We'll talk about it," I said.
Brad moved out on Friday.
He took two suitcases and his laptop and the coffee maker he had always claimed as his.
He stood in the hallway for a moment before he left.
"I never wanted it to go this way," he said.
"I know," I said.
"I still think the truck is a risk."
I almost smiled.
"Goodbye, Brad."
He left.
May you like
I closed the door.
I stood in the hallway of a house that was suddenly, completely, mine.
