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Fiction

We tended to stay up late, my wife and I, but the decision we had to face was important enough to make sure that our son, Hunter, was asleep when we had our discussion. He being at the age of six, that was no easy task, especially during the summer. 

We sought to give him the best day ever, and engaged in all sorts of activities we knew he would love. We spent the day at to the beach, visited the vintage arcade on the boardwalk, and ate cherry-flavored snow cones as the sun began to set.

After wrangling him into his bed clothes, he insisted he wasn’t tired, even after about ten rounds of hide and seek. I had an idea.

“Hunter, I think I know the perfect hiding place.”

“Is it under the couch?”

“We’ve already hid there.”

“That’s true.”

“Three, four, five,” Heather called from the kitchen.

“Hunter, we only have five more seconds! I was thinking. What if you hid under the covers of your bed. It’s the last place that mommy would think of!”

“You think?”

“I totally do.”

He considered my words, and nodded his head in agreement.

I squirmed. “Let’s go!”

He grabbed my hand and pulled. “Quick! She’s almost at ten!”

That did the trick. Within seconds, after he made sure he truly looked like a bunch of covers, he was fast asleep. I cherished the moment as I heard his little snores. I gazed at the picture of our family he recently drew, with multiple colors of crayons, and I sighed inside. I lingered just a moment longer, and tread around the myriad of toys still strewn about the room to meet Heather in the kitchen.

“Okay, he’s finally asleep.”

“David, It’s been a long day. Would you like some coffee for our late night discussion? It was fresh brewed this morning!” She was doing her best to be upbeat, despite the situation.

“Umm. No, that’s okay. On second thought, this could go long, couldn’t it? Maybe just a smidge.” I couldn’t muster the levity that was being cast my way. I honestly tried. Maybe the coffee would help.

“The dainty cup it is then,” my wife exclaimed, as she took out the solitary ‘china’ cup we owned. We had bought it back in the days when we had much less and could only buy things from thrift stores. She grabbed for herself the giant white mug, the one usually relegated for hot chocolate with marshmallows on cold winter days. She sat down at the table, with the now officially reborn microwaved coffee, and passed my drink to me.

I took a sip. The extra stale bitterness seemed to fit the situation perfectly. “This, situa—“

“Well— Oh. You go first, David.”

“No, it’s okay. You can go.”

“I honestly don’t know what I was going to say. You are the one who wanted to have this discussion in the first place. You should go first.”

“I was going to say, this situation is probably my fault.”

“I totally agree. You should’ve told Hunter the truth when he asked about it a few months ago.”

“I’m not alone in this, you went along with it. You may be a little less culpable than I am, since I am the one who said it to him, but you did go along with it. And that makes you an accessory to the crime.”

“I went along with— grr.” Heather tightened her lips and became silent, which was a telltale sign this conversation was already not going well. “Are you really sure you want to go there? Cause we can.” She tilted her head ever so slightly, in a way that let me know, that she knew, that I knew, that she was right.

I sighed. “You’re right. It’s not about blame.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s about coming up with a solution, but why the sudden urgency?”

“I just don’t want him getting the wrong idea about who his family is and where he came from.”

Heather sat up straight and squinted her eyes. “Nuh uh! There has gotta be something more.” She clicked her tongue and her face brightened. With with her left index finger fixed in my direction, she exclaimed, “It’s because of the picture he drew the other day. Isn’t it? The one hanging by his bed.”

I scoffed, “No.” 

She offered no reply.

I bent a little, “Well, maybe.” 

Stilled silence as a response, her face was fixed in a perplexed state. Her blank stare went through me.

“Yes,” I acquiesced, “I just can’t handle him going to bed each night believing a fantasy.”

“Just tell him the truth tomorrow at breakfast. He is going to find out eventually.”

“If it were me, I would be destroyed. I don’t want to crush his spirit. I mean, everything he believes about his relationship with his parents is a— you know.”

“A lie? Yes, it is. Why didn’t you just tell him the truth?”

“I guess I thought that— I don’t really know why.”

“You know what? I just realized. This is as bad as the time you took me to the ballet.”

“What do you mean? This is nothing like the ballet.”

“Really? On our first date when you heard how much I loved going to the theater and engaging in cultural things like ballet. You elaborated on and on about how much you enjoyed them too.”

“Yeah, I did, and we went to the ballet on our third date and had a wonderful time. Didn’t we?”

“I had a wonderful time, but WE did not. Remember how you were going to walk out, until I told you it was just the intermission? And then, how you held back yawns all the way through the final act?”

“You saw that, huh?”

“And isn’t it amazing, in our nine years of marriage, you haven’t taken me since.”

I looked down in shame. “Yes, I admit that ballet has never been one of my favorite things, but I had a wonderful time because it made you happy.”

Heathers voice softened, “And that was sweet of you for doing it, but you would have been just as happy if we had gone out for pizza and played video games all night.”

“Also true.”

She reached across the table and caressed the top of my hand. “Like you did with me in our early days, you told me what you thought would make me happy.” With a slap, she pulled her hand away. “And now you’ve done that to our son.”

“You’re right, I did.” My awareness only served to make me more desperate to make it right. “Maybe I could sort of introduce it to Hunter gently? You know, something like, there is something that mommy and daddy want to tell you.”

“You could say it that way, or maybe, instead, I should start the conversation?”

“Really? You would do that?” I suddenly felt relieved.

“Yes, I would say, something more like, ‘Your father needs to fess up about a big fat lie that he told you, that he shouldn’t have, and now he regrets it.’” She sipped some coffee and held the mug up by her lips.

“Now you’re just mocking me. Aren’t you?” My relief was short-lived.

“I think you are just making a bigger deal out of this than you have to.”

“Honey, he has believed something about his whole life that isn’t true.”

“His whole life of six years? Where, maybe, he actually vividly remembers only two?”

“Yes, but this is something he believes about himself that spans from a time before he can remember. This could really mess him up. I— I’ve really messed up.” I took another tiny sip of the acrid coffee-like substance in my sorry excuse for a cup and winced. “Maybe I should preface it with all the joy he has brought us since the day he came into our lives?”

“And your hoping that will accomplish what?”

“Maybe he can, sort of, figure out on his own where we are going with the conversation?”

“How good are you at getting hints? He’s a male.” She points to the empty flower vase on the kitchen counter. The vase that happens to be sitting in front of the basket, that I happen to put my keys in, every single day.

“Point taken, but still, it's not a bad idea to include something like that. We don’t want Hunter thinking he is any less special just because he isn’t—“

“I’m not what?” He stood behind me, in his Spider-Man pajamas, rubbing his eyes.

Being the more practical one, Heather took charge, “Oh sweetie! Did we wake you up?”

“I smelled something, and then I heard your voices, and it woke me up.”

I answered, “Oh, it’s just mommy and daddy drinking coffee together and talking. You should probably go back to sleep.”

“Can I try some?”

I turned to my wife and widened my eyes. I hoped she might be able to persuade him to head back to bed.

She tried. “I’ll be making fresh coffee tomorrow morning. Maybe you can have some then? Doesn’t that sound good? What do you say?”

“But it smells good now.” Hunter shuffled forward as he sniffed the air. He ducked under my arm and squeezed himself onto my lap. “Can I have some, Daddy?”

“You really want some coffee? It honestly tastes gross.”

“It tastes gross?” He thought about it for a moment. “Then yes! I want some.”

“Well, THAT backfired on you, David.”

He grabbed the tiny cup with both of his hands and took a big gulp. He screwed up his face and shook his head back and forth. “That’s yucky! You drink this?!”

“Yes, Son, your mother and I drink it every morning.”

“Every morning? Then why are you drinking it at night?”

It’s amazing how astute little children can be, and how they pick up on details you wished you had left out. “Your mother and I are having a very important conversation, and we thought it might help us to stay awake. It’s kinda late. We didn’t want to get tired. Just like you are right now. Right?”

“I’m not tired, and I heard you say my name. Is your con-ver-station about me?” It is equally astounding that children always seem to ask the very question you invariably tried to avoid having to answer.

I looked for assistance from my wife. She silently mouthed the words, ‘your fault’ to me while she ever so slightly shook her head no. I knew it. She blamed me. But then again, so did I.

“Son, there is something I have to confess.”

He turned up to look at me, and his straight brown hair caught my scruff. “Yes?”

“Do you remember how I told you, a while back, that—?”

He interrupted, “Adopted?”

“Yes, it’s about being adopted.”

“I’m not adopted?”

“No, you’re not. When you asked if you were adopted, I heard how your teacher told the class that if you are adopted, it means you are special. And I wanted to make you feel happy, so I stupidly told you that you were adopted. I should have just told you the truth, and let you know that you were special anyway.”

His big brown eyes met mine. “Oh, Is that all? I figgered that out a few days ago. I’m really YOUR son.” He polished off my coffee, slid out from my lap, and began to head out the kitchen and back to bed.

“You already knew?” I looked at the empty cup. I was not sure if I should be more amazed that he figured out I had lied, or that he had downed my coffee like a beast.

Hunter stopped in the doorway. “And Daddy? I know I am special.”

“You most certainly are.” 

He might have truly been our child, but he was definitely his mother’s son.

August 21, 2021 01:22

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3 comments

Charli Britton
19:53 Sep 08, 2021

I liked your story a lot, it was realistic and heartfelt. The only bit of criticism I have would be that one sentence closer to the beginning. “David, It’s been a long day. Would you like some coffee for our late night discussion? It was fresh brewed this morning!” I feel like it is slightly unnatural. Just say it out loud and think, would any one actually ever say this? I think you could get away with taking of the "for our late night discussion part" I don't think it is needed here. Thats my two bits, take it or leave it. Otherwise, nic...

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23:46 Sep 20, 2021

I appreciate the feedback. I agree, that part is slightly unnatural. I intended it to be. I was trying to set the tone right away and building into the story that the wife didn't really want to be having the talk whatsoever (and she thought it was ridiculous to have it) without coming out and saying it explicitly. I am sure there were other ways to do that, but they didn't come to at the time of writing. 😊

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Charli Britton
20:47 Sep 21, 2021

Well when you put it that way, I think it comes across a lot better. But there were probably better way to word it, ur right :)

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