The Weird Kid

I decided I did not need to see Gettysburg, because it was a field, and I can use my imagination on any field for much the same result. So Leon arranged a day for us, and was congenial when Sean called to thwart it. My plan had been to basically drop Smudge's accidentally-absconded bag off at a neutral spot, and not see my husband and daughter. I had been successfully ignoring the wound I had made by leaving them at the airport, and didn't want to look at it now.

Sean had been one day and night at his grandparents. One the phone,
"Hon, can we just, can we see each other and just, hang out a little? I mean I know you guys have plans but, could we?" He sounded desperate like thirst.

So Leon and I drove and hour north and Sean and Smudge drove an hour south and we met at a greasy spoon offering all-you-can-eat sirloin for $3.99. Leon refused to eat, and was horrified when the waitress put a free bucket of pickles in the center of the table. I ordered a dessert made of canned peaches and corn syrup, that I couldn't eat so much as marvel at. That cook must have balls of steel to call that a Peach Melba Delight.

Sean ate his hamburger quick and thoughtless, stress-eating.

"Everyone. Everyone in that house is dying. Literally. If any of them didn't wake up tomorrow I wouldn't be surprised. Grandma, Grandpa, Great Aunt Sukes and Aunt Rhonda. Cancer, diabetes, Grandma doesn't have a left hip!!"

His grandparent's house was the closest thing he had to a happy childhood home. Now it was neglected, hot and fetid with sickness and depression.

"They left a ham out to thaw on the counter for days! They keep saying, 'Don't you and Smudge want some ham?'" He shuddered and disappeared a handful of fries.

He did not feel he could leave Smudge under their attention for even a moment, timing his bowel moments with the baby's naps. Smudge wouldn't eat and had blistering diaper rash. And his family. Angry at each other when they thought he was out of earshot, giving him orders on how to attend his child when he was.

"It's like they're not even mine. They're like, something that happened to someone else, a long time ago."

I conceived a sloppy rescue plan for my husband. I tried to picture he and Smudge trailing me from Philadelphia to Washington DC, them sitting on the other side of the restaurant while I had the bridesmaid dinner, him trying to wrestle her quiet as I walked the aisle in my blue dress, reimbursing Leon for the halvsies I would no longer be paying.

In the end I didn't rescue him. I strapped the baby in the back of the car and hugged him again. They went back, and I went on.

I don't know if it was the right thing to do.