closes the door, and I sigh, look into the tent again.
Benny’s grin is so big I can’t help but do the same. He pats the spot next to him. “Come in, Mama.”
“Are you sure? I thought it was boys only?”
“You can come until Leo gets back. I won’t tell him.”
I laugh and crawl into the small space. I go straight for the table—more books about rocks and minerals. I didn’t even know they made this many.
Leo told me that his sister owns a bookstore, so he gets her to order them for him at a discounted rate. He’d always grown up around books, and while his parents didn’t spoil them with material things, there was never a limit when it came to books. As kids, they would use the allowance they earned from doing chores around the house to buy the things they wanted—toys or outings—but his mom would always pay for books because you can’t put a value on education, imagination, and time and space travel—which is what books are to Leo.
He told me about day trips to the city with his mom and sister, just the three of them, and they’d do nothing but go to new and used bookstores. They’d come home with so many bags of books, his dad would have to carry them in. And then he and his sister would sit at the kitchen table while his mom made hot chocolate, and they’d go through all their purchases. Lucy would pile them neatly, alphabetize them and sniff the pages, while Leo—to his sister’s dismay—would dramatically crack their spines, write his name on the title pages, and—just to really annoy her—dog-ear the pages.
As he got older, he realized he didn’t get through them as quickly as his sister did, so he didn’t go on as many outings with them, opting to stay home and actually read the ones he had. He said that of all the things he’d like to teach Benny, his love for getting lost in another world is high up on the list, along with woodworking, and you know… being a decent human being.
He’s been talking about Benny a lot lately, and not just the cute things he does or the adventures they go on together. He talks about his hopes and dreams for Benny, and sometimes, I wonder what he sees. Specifically, where he envisions this future of ours.
Last week, he asked what my plans were for Benny going to school next year. I sent him the link to two schools in New York that I’d been looking at. One is a public school. The other is a school with a wait list so long we put Benny’s name down a few days after he was born. After perusing both websites, Leo responded with: Where’s all the space for him to play?
And that’s when we both realized that we couldn’t hold off on The Talk much longer. He’s just under a month from graduating the academy, so it was time to—as he put it—adult the fuck up. This weekend, we planned to make it all about Benny. In two weeks, when I return, we’ll sit and we’ll talk. We’ll talk until decisions are made.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and it’s a text from Leo:
Leo: Your ass. Those jeans. Holy shit, Mia.
He follows this up with emojis of a tongue and a peach.
I scoff.
“What’s wrong, Mama?” Benny asks, taking a book from the stack and opening it to the title page. He grabs a crayon from the box and starts writing his name.
“Nothing,” I say. “Leo’s just being silly.”
He giggles, halfway through the E when he says, “Leo’s not silly. He’s the bestest and strongest man in my world.”
My lips part to reply, but the sudden knot in my throat prevents it.
He’s finished with the first N when he stops, looks up at me. “Mama?” His lips are pursed, his dark eyebrows almost meeting in the middle. “Is it okay if I tell Leo that I love him?”
A ragged breath falls from my lips, and I release the air in my lungs slowly. “Yeah, bud,” I choke out. “If that’s how you feel.”
“I do,” he says, going back to his task, completely unaware of my current emotional state.
“Then you should tell him.” I look away, hoping he doesn’t notice the tears in my eyes.
“Done!” Benny says, showing me his wonky name written in blue.
“That’s great—” I break off when there’s a knock on the door. I look at Benny. He looks