said in a teasing voice.
A feeling of total happiness bubbled up inside me and I could tell from Evan’s expression he was feeling it, too. “Did you do anything gross when you were a kid?” he asked.
“Hmm. I don’t think it was gross, but my mom seemed to think so.” I paused. “I used to drink out of the garden hose.”
“That’s not gross at all, Mom.”
“I know, right? You tell your grandma that when we get home, okay?”
“I will.” He nodded dutifully. After a pause, he asked, “Did you eat grass, too?”
“No, but when I was a kid, I used to whistle with blades of grass between my thumbs.”
Evan’s eyes widened like saucers. “Show me.”
And I did. For the next several minutes, we entertained ourselves by blowing over blades of grass stretched between our thumbs, making high-pitched squealing noises and squawking sounds. I showed Evan how to move the tips of his thumbs back and forth, making the grass pull more or less taut, and thus changing the pitch.
“We should probably stop,” I said after fifteen minutes or so. “If we do this long enough, we’ll attract predators.”
Worry creased his brows. “Seriously?”
“Uh-huh. It can lure mountain lions and coyotes close to us.” I didn’t know that for a fact, but it was something my mom used to say when she’d had enough of my ‘grass whistling.’
“Mom,” Evan said suddenly. “You said I get a prize for being brave.”
“Uh-huh.” I gave a crisp nod. “You sure do.”
“Can I have two things?”
“Of course.”
“Tell me a mythology. The one about Achilles.”
“But you’ve already heard that one before.”
“I know. But I want to hear it again.”
“All right,” I said, watching delight play across his face as he rested his head on my lap. Smoothing his hair from his brows, I smiled at him and began. “Achilles was the strongest and most fearless warrior in the army of Agamemnon, the best fighter of the Greeks besieging Troy. When Achilles was a little boy, his mother, Thetis, who was a sea nymph, dipped him into the River Styx. This made Achilles invulnerable everywhere but the heel by which she held him. For years, Achilles was a great hero in the Trojan War. But in the end, Paris, the son of the Trojan king, killed Achilles by shooting an arrow through his only weak spot—his heel. And to this day, the tendon that connects the calf muscles to the heel bone on your foot is called the Achilles tendon, and a small but dangerous weakness is known as an Achilles’ heel.”
Evan was quiet for some time. Then he said softly, “Mom, I don’t want to be your Achilles’ heel. I don’t want to be your weak spot.”
“You’re not, honey. Why would you say such a thing?”
When I looked at him, he averted his gaze and examined his hands as if he were afraid to tell me. “I had to use the bathroom one night, and I heard Grammy say that I’m your Achilles’ heel.”
The anguish and conflict in his eyes pierced me. “Your grandma was sleepy, and when she’s tired, she says silly things.” I wet my throat and softened my tone. “Things she doesn’t mean.”
But Evan wasn’t quite convinced. “Is it because of me that you don’t have a boyfriend?”
“No. I… I just—”
“I’d like you to have a boyfriend, Mom.”
I fell silent for a moment. “Why?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “Why is Daddy not here? Why did he leave us?”
His question made me pause, uncertain of how to answer. “I’m not sure, bud.” I worried my lower lip between my teeth. “Maybe one day when you get a chance to see him, you can ask him that question yourself.”
I didn’t want to lie to Evan. But I couldn’t tell him the truth, either.
I used to think that I should have all the answers to his questions.
But now I realized it was just as powerful letting him know that I didn’t know.
Because in my heart, I really didn’t know the reason Evan’s dad wanted no contact with him
A feeling of total happiness bubbled up inside me and I could tell from Evan’s expression he was feeling it, too. “Did you do anything gross when you were a kid?” he asked.
“Hmm. I don’t think it was gross, but my mom seemed to think so.” I paused. “I used to drink out of the garden hose.”
“That’s not gross at all, Mom.”
“I know, right? You tell your grandma that when we get home, okay?”
“I will.” He nodded dutifully. After a pause, he asked, “Did you eat grass, too?”
“No, but when I was a kid, I used to whistle with blades of grass between my thumbs.”
Evan’s eyes widened like saucers. “Show me.”
And I did. For the next several minutes, we entertained ourselves by blowing over blades of grass stretched between our thumbs, making high-pitched squealing noises and squawking sounds. I showed Evan how to move the tips of his thumbs back and forth, making the grass pull more or less taut, and thus changing the pitch.
“We should probably stop,” I said after fifteen minutes or so. “If we do this long enough, we’ll attract predators.”
Worry creased his brows. “Seriously?”
“Uh-huh. It can lure mountain lions and coyotes close to us.” I didn’t know that for a fact, but it was something my mom used to say when she’d had enough of my ‘grass whistling.’
“Mom,” Evan said suddenly. “You said I get a prize for being brave.”
“Uh-huh.” I gave a crisp nod. “You sure do.”
“Can I have two things?”
“Of course.”
“Tell me a mythology. The one about Achilles.”
“But you’ve already heard that one before.”
“I know. But I want to hear it again.”
“All right,” I said, watching delight play across his face as he rested his head on my lap. Smoothing his hair from his brows, I smiled at him and began. “Achilles was the strongest and most fearless warrior in the army of Agamemnon, the best fighter of the Greeks besieging Troy. When Achilles was a little boy, his mother, Thetis, who was a sea nymph, dipped him into the River Styx. This made Achilles invulnerable everywhere but the heel by which she held him. For years, Achilles was a great hero in the Trojan War. But in the end, Paris, the son of the Trojan king, killed Achilles by shooting an arrow through his only weak spot—his heel. And to this day, the tendon that connects the calf muscles to the heel bone on your foot is called the Achilles tendon, and a small but dangerous weakness is known as an Achilles’ heel.”
Evan was quiet for some time. Then he said softly, “Mom, I don’t want to be your Achilles’ heel. I don’t want to be your weak spot.”
“You’re not, honey. Why would you say such a thing?”
When I looked at him, he averted his gaze and examined his hands as if he were afraid to tell me. “I had to use the bathroom one night, and I heard Grammy say that I’m your Achilles’ heel.”
The anguish and conflict in his eyes pierced me. “Your grandma was sleepy, and when she’s tired, she says silly things.” I wet my throat and softened my tone. “Things she doesn’t mean.”
But Evan wasn’t quite convinced. “Is it because of me that you don’t have a boyfriend?”
“No. I… I just—”
“I’d like you to have a boyfriend, Mom.”
I fell silent for a moment. “Why?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “Why is Daddy not here? Why did he leave us?”
His question made me pause, uncertain of how to answer. “I’m not sure, bud.” I worried my lower lip between my teeth. “Maybe one day when you get a chance to see him, you can ask him that question yourself.”
I didn’t want to lie to Evan. But I couldn’t tell him the truth, either.
I used to think that I should have all the answers to his questions.
But now I realized it was just as powerful letting him know that I didn’t know.
Because in my heart, I really didn’t know the reason Evan’s dad wanted no contact with him
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