“Okay.”
Meanwhile, Johnny had been using those same two hours to sit in a parking lot, eat pizza, and watch videos because he thought he deserved a break.
He didn’t argue.
He didn’t defend himself.
He only said, very quietly, “Okay.”
He didn’t argue.
Then he hung up.
His mother had heard enough to understand.
The amusement had disappeared from her face.
The front door opened just before dinner.
He hung up.
Johnny walked in looking like he had survived a natural disaster. His hair was a mess, the swim bag was sliding off one shoulder, one child was clinging to his leg, and another was whining about being hungry.
He was also carrying flowers and two bags of restaurant food.
His mother and I came into the hallway.
Johnny looked at me first.
I said nothing.
“I was a jerk.”
I said nothing.
He exhaled. “I didn’t even know where his swim stuff was. I didn’t know the schedule, the fees, half the routine… any of it.”
“I’ve been doing this every day.”
His mother finally spoke.
“I know.”
He rubbed his face.
“I kept telling myself I was tired. I was taking two hours for myself every night and pretending you didn’t need them.”
His mother finally spoke.
“Johnny, I raised you better than that.”
He winced. “Mom.”
“No. Every time I come over, you grab laundry, do dishes, run after the kids. I thought you did that when I wasn’t here too.”
“Both of you.”
That shut him up.
