This confession was also met with silence. I couldn’t help but picture Mum’s face. Oh man.
“You have a son?” she repeated.
“He what?” Dad’s voice boomed through the connection. Suffice to say, I didn’t miss the shock in it, not even from the other side of the world.
“You have a son in San Diego?” Mum said.
“Holy crap, dude.” Caden sounded as stunned as Dad.
“I do,” I said, rolling my forehead side to side on the table. “His name is Tanner. He’s eighteen months old.”
“And Amanda Sinclair is the mother.”
It wasn’t a question. Mum isn’t dumb. Amanda was the only American girl I’d had any kind of relationship with. The censure in Mum’s statement told me she remembered the broken heart Amanda had left me with as well as I did.
I straightened on the bench seat and nodded at the empty park. “She is.”
“How long have you known?”
I glanced at my watch. “About seven hours. Give or take a few minutes.”
“Oh, Brendon.” Worry flooded Mum’s murmur.
I heard muffled voices in the background. I assumed Caden was bringing his mother, my aunt, up to speed. It was either that, or Dad was in the process of cursing my name and his sister was trying to calm him down. Maybe both.
“He’s gorgeous, Mum,” I said into the phone. For some reason I was having difficulty swallowing. And yet, at the thought of Tanner, a smile stretched my lips. I couldn’t stop it. “Looks like a mini version of me.”
“So there’s no question of his parentage?”
I didn’t get angry at her question. It was a natural one, born from a maternal need to look out for her son. “No.”
“Okay, so when are we going to meet him?”
Something hot and wet stung my eyes. I blinked. My vision blurred. Damn it. “That’s . . . I don’t . . .” I stopped, swallowing the hot lump suddenly in my throat.
“Talk to me, Brendon,” Mum said, the command gentle. “What’s going on?”
“He’s got leukemia, Mum. Philadelphia chromosome-positive leukemia. He’s in the New Dawn Children’s Hospital here in San Diego. His doctor, Parker Waters, said he has six months to live, maybe less, unless they can find a bone marrow match.”
“Oh, honey.” I felt Mum’s grief. It was clear in her voice.
“What’s going on?” Dad asked in the background. “What’s with the ‘oh honey’s? He’s not five, y’know. He goes around sticking in his wick without protection then he needs to—”
“Brendon?”
I blinked at Caden’s voice in my ear. “Hey, dude. What’s . . . where’s Mum gone?”
“She’s currently beating up your dad.” He chuckled. “She’s got a good swing on her. What did you say to get her so fired up?”
“My son has leukemia.”
“Holy fuck, dude.” Fuck. Not crap. Caden didn’t swear much, especially in front of his mum, or my parents. “Oh God, man, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
I smiled, a wobbly smile of gratitude my cousin had no hope of seeing. “Do my laundry?” I joked, needing to crack the suffocating tension. “I left a pile of it behind. It’s going to be stinking up the place by the time I get back.”
Caden laughed. It was the most gentle, un-Caden laugh I’d ever heard. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen, dude. How bout I – whup, here’s your mum back.”
“Brendon, we’re flying over,” she said, brisk and businesslike. I don’t know what she’d said to Dad, but I couldn’t hear him in the background. “Your father will take some time off, I’ll call work in the—”
“No, Mum,” I cut her off. “It’s okay. I’m okay. We’ll be okay here. I’m just waiting to get the word I’m a match, and the doc will perform the transplant. I didn’t ring to upset you. Just thought I should let you know where I was.”
“I don’t mean to pull the medical-slash-nurse card on you, honey, but you know the chances of you being a match are—”
“Mum, I gotta go,” I said. I couldn’t have this argument with her. I’d barely handled having it with myself. “I’ll ring again when I know more, okay.”
For the third time, silence stretched over the connection, and then Mum said, “Okay.”
A knot released in my chest. I closed my eyes and pictured her again. “I love you, Mum,” I said finally. “Tell Dad he’s not too bad either.”
There were tears in her laughter as she hung up. I was very aware she’d brought the conversation to an end before it got too maudlin or sappy. As I said – or maybe I didn’t, but I should have – she’s incredible. They both were. It was an honor to be their son.
Glancing at the time on my phone, I contemplated calling Maci. It would be nice to hear her voice again, and despite the fact Raph and I hadn’t always seen eye to eye, or let’s face it, got along – I did almost break his jaw once, after all – I could handle sitting down with another Aussie guy and having a beer. It wasn’t my normal routine, but there was nothing normal or routine about my life at the moment. Hell, I hadn’t exercised since I’d left Australia.
My thumb hovered over Maci’s number. And then chirped with a new message from Amanda.
If you change your mind, this is my address.
I studied it, imagined being back there in the apartment with her. Instead of here in a park. Alone. Gritting my teeth, I shoved my phone back into my pocket and stood. Meditation hadn’t worked. Talking to Mum – and Caden – had only choked me up to the point where I felt homesick. What I needed right now was something from my normal routine.
Tossing my cold coffee into the closest rubbish bin, I checked out the surrounding area with a sweeping gaze, noted where the sun sat low in the afternoon sky, and began to run.
Exercise was a vital part of my life, you may have already noticed. In my opinion, it’s the foundation for life. A strong foundation can handle a lot of weight on top of it, without stress or cracking.
I’ve got to say though, I’d never been this close to cracking. A strong body is a strong mind as the saying goes, but hairline cracks were beginning to undermine my strength. I needed to work on my foundation before I could load more onto it, and with what was to come for me and Tanner and Amanda . . . well, a strong foundation would be more than vital. It was crucial.
Fixing my gaze on the western horizon, I pounded the pavement. Jogging wasn’t my favourite cardio activity, but it got the job done. I headed west, the sinking sun my target, and listened to my breathing. Listened to my heart. No thinking. Just existing. No controlling of emotions, just pushing my body to a level beyond comfort. A cleansing of my mind, spirit and energy.
I don’t know how long I’d been running when my phone vibrated in my back pocket. I stopped straight away and yanked it out. I looked at the screen. My heart thumped in my ears, a frantic beat that had nothing to do with my impromptu run.
“Damn it,” I muttered, finding a message and smiley face emoji from Heather. Heather. Not Parker Waters.