After about twenty minutes we’ve reached the town center and I walk over to one of the welcome center maps to see where we can go next.
“Can I ask you something?”
I jump. His presence, while strong, is often forgettable due to his overwhelming need for silence.
I giggle nervously as I try to hide the fact that I forgot my own son was with me, and nod at him.
“What’s a good age to have kids?”
“What?” I ask him in confusion. Luke is only fifteen years old, so that’s not something I would expect him to be wondering so soon in his life.
“Well, how old were you when you had me?” he asks, shifting on his feet.
“I was about twenty,” I reply, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”
He shoves his hands into his jean pockets and glances away from me. “And how old was he?”
I wrinkle my nose in confusion. I don’t understand what kind of information he’s looking for and he’s damn good when it comes to beating around the bush—too good for my liking sometimes.
“He, who?” I ask, raising an eyebrow curiously.
“My dad.”
“Oh. Um, thirty-five, I think.”
He nods and takes a deep breath before he walks over to me and stares at the map.
“Where to now, Magellan?” he asks, a small smile on his face.
“Wherever we want to go. See anything that looks good?” I reply, resting my head on his shoulder. Luke is a tall boy, much like his father, and he dwarfed me when he turned about twelve. Puberty shot him up the rest of the way and it astounds me that he’s not done growing just yet.
He puts an arm around me as he leans closer to the map and runs a finger down the list of places closest to where we’re standing.
“Nah. This all looks kind of boring. We can go to the beach, though. The sun is almost gone so there shouldn’t be too many people there.”
“Sounds good to me,” I reply softly, as I pull away from him and we loop our arms together again. Luke seems to be slightly less apprehensive about being outside, and I’ll let him lead me anywhere he wants to go right now if it’ll make him happy.
I just want my boy to know that he’s loved—I want him to feel it as much as he feels the obvious desolation of only having one parent and not knowing much about the other. This isn’t the first time he’s asked me about his father, and while his question took me off guard, I have a feeling it holds some kind of personal relevance to him.
Maybe one day, he’ll tell me what it is.
On the boardwalk near the beach there are some small bars, a few outdoor diners, and multiple paths that lead to the sand. Luke seems a bit overwhelmed because he expected a ghost town of sorts, and to be honest, so did I.
We settle on one of the smaller diners with outdoor seating because it seems to be the least populated of all of the buildings surrounding us. Since I’m not very hungry, I order a small bowl of ice cream and he orders a club sandwich. Our server moves quickly and seems to be completely frazzled by the amount of people out tonight, which makes me smile.
She can’t be much older than Luke—maybe two or three years, and she seems to have a good head on her shoulders. I find myself wondering if my son would be interested in getting a job at a place like this, but the way he’s picking at his sandwich tells me otherwise.
I also wonder if he notices our young server stealing glances in his direction. She’s mostly frazzled because of the crowd, but I can tell that part of her nervousness comes from his presence. I know it because it’s how I would act when his father would come to visit with me.
“She is pretty, isn’t she?” I ask him once she’s out of earshot again.
“Huh?” he turns his eyes up toward me as he finally takes a bite out of his sandwich.
“The girl serving us, silly,” I reply with a laugh before I lick my spoon and dip it back into the bowl.
Luke shrugs as he leans back in his chair, “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her yet.”
I shake my head at him and lift another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. The world could come tumbling down on his head and he would still be trapped somewhere in his own thoughts without even noticing the destruction around him.