My Son Called Her Mom

All summer, Leo had been going to the rink with a classmate to practice figure skating.

When school started, he brought home a trophy from the regional junior division.

His classmate's mom was supposedly Leo's private coach.

To say thank you, I baked a batch of cookies and gave them to her at the school's parents' day.

She just stared at me, puzzled. "Figure skating? That's not right. My whole family was in Europe all summer. I didn't give lessons to any kids."

My smile froze on my face.

When I got home, I asked Leo where he'd actually been practicing.

He was beyond irritated. He slammed his bedroom door right in front of me. "Why do you have to ask so many questions? I got the trophy, didn't I?"

Then, a second later, I noticed the writing assignment he'd left on the kitchen table.

The prompt was The Person I Most Want to Thank.

The title he'd written was: My Mom.

For a moment, my heart warmed. Then my eyes moved down the page, and it was like falling into ice water.

Throughout the essay, the "mom" who'd spent the whole summer with him loved wearing white dresses. I never wore white. Not with all the housework.

Before school started, they'd also gone out of town to watch a competition.

That was the exact date Daniel had told me he'd be away on a business trip.

I stared at the essay. His teacher had given it an A.

So my husband was lying. And my son had learned to lie right along with him.

They didn't just have another family out there. My son had happily accepted a new mom.

That night after dinner, Leo was heading out to "practice" again. Daniel offered to drive him and then swing by the office to get some work done.

I smiled and watched them leave.

If that other home was so wonderful, then this one didn't need to exist.

•   *   *

The moment the door closed, the smile slid off my face.

I went into the kitchen, loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, and wiped down the stove twice.

I turned the water all the way up. It was just loud enough to drown out the ringing in my ears.

When I was done, I sat alone in the empty living room and video-called my parents. My mom was kneading dough. When she saw my face, she stopped.

I was quiet for a long time before I finally spoke. "Mom, that immigration application you mentioned... can we still do it?"

"Of course we can! Whenever you want to come, we're here."

I forced a smile and hung up without explaining anything.

Almost the same second the call ended, Daniel's call came through.

"Something came up at work. I'm sleeping at the office tonight. Leo's going to a classmate's after practice. I'll take him straight to school in the morning."

"Where are you two right now?"

He paused, then tossed out the name of a neighborhood.

I held the phone, my voice as flat as still water. "Okay."

Maybe I was too calm. It seemed to rattle him. "Don't go imagining things. I'll be home as soon as I'm done."

I didn't answer. I just hung up.

I stood, picked up the father's and son's slippers from the entryway, and threw them in the trash.

Then I pulled up the bills for the entire summer. Leo's after-school activity account had almost no charges on it. Our utility bills were nearly half what they usually were.

Every one of Daniel's so-called "business trips" and "client dinners" lined up perfectly with the dates of the family trips in that essay.

My phone lit up. A text from Daniel: Don't wait up. Get some rest.

I replied with one word: Okay.

A little after eleven, I checked my email and found that the school had sent out a batch of photos from an after-school event.

I clicked through them. Leo wasn't in any.

Then I zoomed in. In the reflection on a pane of glass, a woman in a white dress was leading Leo out by the hand, with Daniel walking beside them.

I stared at the screen, my fingers slowly tightening.

The next morning, Daniel noticed I was dressed to go out. His face darkened. "What are you all dressed up for?"

I picked up my purse from the couch. "I have a job interview today."

Leo was standing nearby. He rolled his eyes. "An interview for what?"

"A job."

Daniel laughed like he'd heard the funniest thing in the world. "You haven't worked in five years. Who's going to hire you?"

I looked him straight in the eye. "Even if nobody hires me, it beats having to hold out my hand and ask you every time I need money."

His face went completely cold, with that impatient, superior look. "You're just being petty."

"I'm not." I walked to the door and looked back at the two of them one last time. "Leo's growing up. And you have someone else to take care of you now. I'm tired of living like this."

Daniel frowned. "Claire, are you done with this little scene?"

"It's not a scene." I opened the door and took a deep breath. "I'm done begging for grocery money."

This time, he didn't come after me.