Return By Air – Tracey Jerald Page 0,46

minutes. Surreptitiously, I rub my hand over it.

Demonstrating he may be my visual image but he’s as observant as his mother, Kevin remarks, “Are you all right, sir?”

Dropping my hand back to the table, I reply, “I drank too much coffee,” to cover the fact I want to burst into tears my teenage son is asking about my welfare. “And if it’s all right with your mom, calling me Jennings is fine,” I hesitate a breath before tacking on quietly, “Son.”

Kevin’s head swivels to Kara, who’s already nodding, much to my relief. He relaxes before he acknowledges, “I was wondering what I should call you. Mom’s kinda strict about addressing people properly as ‘Mr. This’ or ‘Ms. That.’ That would have been a bit awkward with my birth father if you ask me.” I blink in astonishment when my own dimple flashes for a brief moment in a much younger face.

Fortunately, I’m saved from responding when the waiter appears to ask Kara and Kevin their drink orders. Inside I’m relaxing a little. My first act of parenthood and I didn’t screw it up. Or would this be my second, I think glumly. If so, that would mean I fucked up the first, which would be showing up.

“So, Jennings? I have a lot of questions for you.” Kevin’s seems to be calm, but something must alert Kara. She sits up straighter and narrows her eyes on our son.

“Kevin,” she warns.

“Mom says you didn’t know about me, but I’m not so sure. Maybe you can clarify if you just didn’t want me?” His voice is as calm as if he asked if I take cream or sugar in my coffee.

I freeze even as Kara moans, “God, Kevin. We talked about this. Jennings didn’t know.” Her head is in her hands, rocking back and forth. She looks like she’s ready to burst into tears any moment.

Leaning forward, I drop my voice. “I won’t ask for an apology for me. You don’t know me at all. But I will absolutely demand one for your mother.”

“Excuse me?” Kevin’s chair squeaks a bit as he leans forward himself.

“You just flagrantly disrespected your mother by asking that. Ask me anything about my history, my life; I’ll answer it. But it’s obvious by her reaction you upset your mother the first time you asked, and yet you asked it again. That shows a lack of respect for the woman who gave up everything to raise you. Consider her and where we’re at when you ask your questions.” Finished making my point, I sit back, leaving my son seething.

The waiter walks up just then to take our orders, and I snap, “Not now. Come back.”

Kevin smirks in a way that’s disturbingly familiar. I’m horrified when I realize I likely gave every person of authority the same attitude at some point in my teenage years.

Kara takes compassion on me because she issues out a warning “Kevin,” which is heeded immediately.

He sits back in his chair and braces his arms on the table just as his soda is placed in front of him. Twisting his head to the side, he says, “Thank you,” politely to the server I was so rude to earlier.

“You’re welcome,” the waiter says before scurrying away. Of course. Just when I need him to throw me a lifeline by asking if we’re ready to order, I think darkly. I take a drink of my coffee to cover my discomfort.

I’m bracing myself for anything, so I have to blink when Kevin asks, “Tell me, Jennings, what do you like to do?”

“I feel like I’m being interviewed,” I feebly joke.

Kara winces.

“Well, if you don’t mind.” Kevin reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a folded sheet of college-ruled paper. I stare. “Mom says I should always make lists of questions about things I’m interested in,” he explains. “That way if I have the opportunity to get them answered, I can.”

I gape at Kara, whose face holds no apology, merely acceptance. “He was an inquisitive child, Jennings. From the moment he could cogitate, I was answering a million questions about a million topics I had no answers to.” For a moment the dark that’s been carefully hidden on her face escapes. “It made us a formidable team at Trivial Pursuit against Jed and Dean, didn’t it?” Her hand runs along his arm.

Kevin swallows hard, the death of his beloved uncles obviously not something he’s easily comfortable with discussing. But, as much as it hurts to think of Jed being

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