Chapter 5
Patrick asked to see Simon the next morning.
Simon said no.
Good.
No forced reconciliation because adults felt uncomfortable.
Patrick accepted it badly.
He cried.
Still no.
I sat with him instead.
Not because he was mine.
Because he was a child adults had weaponized.
“Did Uncle Warren tell you what the race meant?”
Patrick nodded.
“A little.”
“What?”
He twisted his fingers.
“If I won, Mom would be real family.”
My chest tightened.
There.
The deeper poison.
“Who told you that?”
“Uncle Warren.”
Lenore closed her eyes across the room.
Patrick continued.
“He said if Simon won, you’d always pick Langley first.”
I looked at Lenore.
She looked ashamed.
Patrick had not been racing for a pier in his mind.
He had been racing for belonging.
“Did your mother say that too?”
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
“She said after the wedding, nobody could treat us like guests if I won.”
There it was.
Lenore’s insecurity.
She was not only helping Warren recover property.
She wanted proof that marrying into Langley would not leave Patrick secondary to Simon.
So instead of asking me how our blended family would work, she created a contest between two boys.
Winner belongs.
Loser yields.
Disgusting.
I looked at Patrick.
“You do not have to beat Simon to belong anywhere.”
His eyes filled.
“Even if he’s your real son?”
There.
I hated adults for teaching children phrases like real son.
“He is my son.”
Patrick shrank slightly.
I continued.
“You are Lenore’s son.”
Then:
“If your mother and I had married, I would have had responsibilities to you because you were part of my home.”
He thought.
“Same?”
“No.”
He looked hurt.
I did not lie.
“Different relationships can still matter without becoming a contest.”
Patrick considered that longer than most adults would.
Then he whispered:
“I knew Mom broke it.”
The boat.
“Why didn’t you tell Simon?”
He cried.
“Because I wanted to win.”
There.
His piece.
Small enough for a child to carry.
Real enough not to erase.
May you like
I nodded.
“Then that’s what you apologize for when he’s ready to hear it.”
