After we hung up, I called him.
He answered with, “Mom, not tonight.”
“We were arguing constantly. We were making the house miserable.”
“So you left?”
“I moved out before we started saying things we couldn’t take back.”
“Marriage gets hard, Adam. Your father and I had years when we barely liked each other.”
“And you think that means Tara and I should copy you?”
“No. I think you shouldn’t walk away too fast.”
He gave a bitter laugh.
“There it is, Mom. I know you’d do this.”
“Marriage gets hard, Adam.”
“Adam…”
“This is why I didn’t tell you. You hear separation and immediately decide somebody failed.”
Angry, I pulled out a casserole dish, cheese, and an onion.
Halfway through chopping, I stopped.
Nobody had asked me to feed them.
“This is why I didn’t tell you.
I was trying to cover the problem with dinner.
I put the knife down and called Adam back.
He didn’t answer.
“I made your marriage about what I believe before I asked what you’re actually living through. I’m sorry.”
I almost added advice.
This time, I didn’t.
***
Three weeks later, I drove four hours for Sophie’s birthday.
Adam opened the door.
“Hi, Mom.”
He gave me a quick hug, but it felt polite rather than warm.
“Tara’s out back.”
Outside, Sophie hugged me while Ben sat at the table with his green backpack against his chair.
Later, Sophie tugged Adam’s sleeve.
“You’re staying for cake, right?”
“And after cake?”
Adam hesitated. “For a while.”
“You’re staying for cake, right?”
She accepted that answer and ran off.
