Of course I was ecstatic to know that Sam was safe and well, though the worry when he was missing and relief when he was found had given way to frustration at him for putting us all through such an ordeal. On the other hand, I was terrified about his reaction to seeing me—he’d run away to avoid me, after all.
Then there was Beck, who had been thrown straight into insta-fatherhood, then into a parental crisis, all faster than he could say “blast from the past.” While I really wanted to see him, after recent events, and the way I’d treated him throughout, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d told me to go fuck myself.
The sad truth was that I really wanted for that not to be the case. I wanted him to want me, the way I wanted him. Actually, I wanted him to want us, Sammy and me.
What a mixed bag of emotions. The past forty-eight hours had been some of my most epic, and my life had hardly lacked drama before then.
The old-school elevator lurched to a juddering stop, taking my stomach with it. I was a wreck in so many ways, but when the concertina door opened and I saw my boys on the other side I just about lost my shit.
I rushed to scoop up Sam—every bit his father’s gorgeous little mini-me—possibly squeezing him tighter than was healthy, and certainly tighter than he was comfortable with. I couldn’t have stopped the tears as they fell if I’d wanted to. I’d already cried a river in the past ten hours or so, but it I apparently had an ever-ready supply of fresh ones, regardless.
I bawled my eyes out and squeezed Sam senseless until he eventually began to squirm and try to push me away, both in physical discomfort and in utter mortification. He was fast becoming a pubescent in that sense.
“Stop it Mom!” He looked positively disgusted at my display of emotion.
“Don’t you ‘stop it Mom,’ me. It was either this or completely lose it at you, so be thankful you got this.” I crouched so that my eyes were level with his.
“Seriously though Sammy, you need to promise me that you’ll never pull a stunt like that again. You’ve had everyone extremely worried about you today, including the police, your school Kate, and even Grandma. And you know that I was out of my mind with worry about you. I get that you had things you wanted to know, and you wanted to talk to your….Beck, but that’s no excuse to take matters into your own hands.”
“Why did you have to tell everyone, like the police and Grandma? It’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair kiddo, but you know what’s really not fair? Not knowing where my child is, whether someone one has him, whether he’s hurt, whether he’s alive, or…” I couldn’t force the word out, but Sam knew what I meant.
“Of course I had to call everyone, including all your friends and their parents. Everybody has been so worried about you. Let me look at you. Are you okay? I want to hear everything, right from the very beginning.”
I nodded my head in greeting to Beck, mouthing “Hey.” He mouthed it back, looking as though he was desperately resisting the urge to push me against the wall and fuck me six ways to Sunday. His timing was epically bad.
I strode across the room to the kitchen island with purpose, and as though I hadn’t picked up on Beck’s intent. It was as I deposited the overnight bags on the floor that Sam noticed them, clapping his hands in delight like a seal.
“Not so fast, buddy. Like I said, I want to hear what happened today, and the police would like to speak to you too. If everything gets wrapped up satisfactorily, we’ll stay over, but that’s a big ‘if,’ understand?” He nodded his ascent.
I sniffed the air appreciatively. My hunger had finally returned, it must have been because my “baby” had returned too.
“Mmmm…something smells delicious. What did you get?”
“Mr. Big burgers. No sauce. Extra pickles,” came the reply from the two of them in unison, before they collapsed into a fit of laughter. So alike it was almost scary. The fact that they had the exact same burger order was clearly a joke they’d shared earlier. I looked at the two of them with their identical picture-perfect grins, and eyes that could make you melt on the spot. Had I created a monster?
I didn’t have long to ponder the idea, as the video intercom buzzed, and the faces of Officer Lewis and Officer Ng crackled into view on the screen. As they rode the ancient elevator up to the apartment, I poked around the kitchen island looking for something to eat.
“We got you fried chicken and onion rings. Sam assured me those were your favorites.”
Thank God he’d ignored my claim not to be hungry. I was learning that Beck didn’t take any chances where food was concerned. A trait he’d definitely passed on to his son.
“He’s right. Thank you so much.” I grabbed the Mr. Big bag he pointed to, and pulled out an onion ring, shoving it into my mouth with a satisfied sigh.
“Anytime.” He winked, clearly amused at my ravenous behavior.
The officers stayed for a little over an hour going over the chain of events surrounding Sam’s disappearance thoroughly. Officer Lewis made copious notes, while Officer Ng led the questioning, though he did less questioning, and more letting Sam explain what had happened, only probing when Sam seemed to run out of steam.
He was increasingly weary, and although I would rather him not have to go through questioning while he was exhausted like that, I understood that making sure he was okay was an important matter of child protection, so I let them do their work.
We sat on the main couch, the three of us, Sam in the middle, Beck and I on either side, like…a family, and I honestly felt like we were. Sam explained that he had become aware that his father was somehow back on the scene when he’d overhead Kate and I discussing it.
That must have been the night of the pitch meeting when I’d had a near breakdown to Kate over a bottle or two of red. As a parent I have to assume the walls have ears at all times. On that occasion I’d thought that Sam was safely tucked up asleep in bed. Clearly I’d been wrong.
After years of almost no details about his dad, curiosity—and I suspect, anger and resentment at me for not telling him more—finally got the better of him, and for the first time, he actively went looking for clues. He was almost twelve and previously, at least, responsible and reliable, so I’d felt comfortable in leaving him at home alone for periods of time, which had given him several opportunities to snoop.
Eventually he’d struck gold with a well-hidden box at the back of the garage, which contained—among other things—my childhood diaries, and my high school yearbook. Of course, he’d read the diaries from cover to cover. I tried my best to bury my horror at the details he now knew about myself and his father.
To say I wrote everything within those pages was a gross understatement, and I do mean everything. All the gory details. I wasn’t prudish at all—we’d already had the ‘birds and bees’ conversation—and I prided myself in being open and honest in at least that area of his life. If he asked me a question, I’d answer it truthfully, and to the best of my ability.
I was also under no illusion that all sorts of information was doing the rounds of the school playground. I remember the same from when I was at school. I had also read somewhere once that the biggest demographic in the world watching porn online was twelve year old boys, and that stat had always stuck with me. All the more reason to welcome open and honest discourse around sex.