For Our Son: A BWWM Parenting Romance For Adults (6 page)

Ryan moved over to a chair and pulled it in front of his mother. He
turned on the camera and pointed the microphone at her.

"Okay, Mom, tell me what you were thinking the day I told you Grace
was pregnant."

Ms. Stewart frowned at the question for a moment. She wasn’t expecting
that this was what Ryan wanted to talk about, especially since she’d had such a
hard time getting him to discuss it in the past.

"Oh…well…I was scared and disappointed…very disappointed. I didn’t
want to see you become a statistic…or Grace…that girl was…she had a lot going
for her. I didn’t want to see a baby ruin her future…or yours."

"That explains the disappointment…what was the fear about?" Ryan
asked.

"Well, it was the same. I wanted you to have a future. And…"
His mother hesitated.

"What?" Ryan prompted her.

"You and Grace…she brought out the best in you. Your grades were
up, I got way fewer calls from the principal, and you were involved in things
at school…I stopped worrying about you so much. I knew the stress of a baby
might be too much for you…and it was."

"Mom, I was seventeen years old, and you said you weren’t going to
help me. What was I supposed to do? Grace said her dad was going to kick her
out."

"I said I didn’t want to help you. I didn’t say I
wouldn’t
."

"No. You said you wouldn’t."

"So it was my fault that you began drinking and almost killed
yourself?"

This wasn’t what Ryan had in mind when he’d started this project. He
thought his mother would give him the warm and fuzzies about what it was like
for her and then he’d move on to the present. He didn’t intend to re-open old
wounds.

"Forget it. Maybe this was a mistake." Ryan got up to shut off
the camera.

"Ryan,
sit
,” his mother commanded him before he got a
chance. "You always do this. When things get a little rough, you
run."

"I’m not running. I just didn’t come here to argue with you."

"So what if we argue. What’s it going to hurt? You still love me, I
still love you, right?"

"I know, Mom, but…"

"But nothing. We haven’t talked about this for years and I think
it’s time. Don’t you?"

Ryan sighed in defeat and sat back down. He knew the tables had turned.
Now his mother would be interviewing him.

"Of course I would have helped you, Ryan. I wouldn’t have made you
live on the street. You know that. How could you have thought that?"

"Honestly, I was more concerned with what Grace’s dad was going to
do to me. I thought that if I showed him I could hold down a job, and school,
and taking care of Grace…that maybe he wouldn’t think that we were such
screw-ups. That’s all Grace really wanted: for her dad to be proud of her…I
ruined that for her so I was just trying to fix it."

"Ryan, this was something that you and Grace got yourselves into
together
.
You can’t accept all the blame yourself."

"Mom, I’m a big boy now, you said it yourself. I can’t sit here and
pretend that it wasn’t mostly my fault. You know all that stuff you said about Grace
bringing out the best in me? Well that was all at her expense. She took time
out of her schedule to study with me. If there was one thing Grace didn’t need,
it was a study partner…
especially
one with half her GPA. And I was
involved at school because her dad hated me and it was a way to spend time
together without him giving us a hard time."

"And you didn’t like it at all?"

"Of course I did, but I never would have known that if it hadn’t
been for Grace. Hell…sorry, I mean,
heck
, she’s the one that got me
interested in pursuing television and production as more than a hobby. Before
her I wanted to be a musician."

Ryan and his mother both laughed at that statement. Ryan attempted to
take control of the interview.

"So if you had it all to do over again, it’s 2007 and I’m telling
you for the first time that Grace and I are going to be parents…what would you
do?"

"You know what," Ms. Stewart began as if she hadn’t heard Ryan’s
question. "The day you guys told me Grace was pregnant, you told me that
you loved each other. Do you think that was true?"

"I thought we did, yeah."

"You thought you did or you did? Which is it?"

"The problem wasn’t me loving Grace, Mom. The problem was Grace
loving me. She didn’t after all."

Ms. Stewart sat back as the realization hit her. "Oh…and all this
time I thought it was you who ended everything."

"Nope."

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

"Because it was high school and that’s where I left it."

Suddenly the entire idea of the documentary seemed ludicrous and Ryan
didn’t want to do it anymore. What was the point? There was no way he’d ever
sit through watching it and he certainly didn’t want anyone else to see it.
Maybe its only purpose was to clear the air with his mother, after all these
years. He could handle that.

"I’ve got to get going, Mom." Ryan started to get up.

"Wait, I have one more question for you,” she urged.

"I’m the one who was supposed to be interviewing you."

"I know, but I’m curious to know, if
you
had it to do all
over again, what would you have done differently?"

Ryan didn’t hesitate to answer, "I would have supported Grace in
her decision to keep the baby…she really wanted to and now I know we probably
should have."

"I don’t think you made a mistake in giving up the baby for
adoption. It was a wise choice. A hard one, I’m sure, but a wise one
nonetheless."

"I thought that, too, at first. But it’s been years, Mom, and I
still have just as hard a time with it now as I did then. Aside from the fact
that I messed everything up, back then, I have to deal with the fact that now…I
don’t know, maybe Matthew wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for me. The
only thing that gets me through is that I was such a screw-up that he has to be
better off without me…even if it means he doesn’t have Grace either."

"Ryan, you can’t believe…"

"Mom, I have to get to work so…" Ryan cleared his throat. All
of a sudden he’d gotten very emotional. "I’ll come back later to get my
camera and stuff. I don’t have time to pack it up."

"Yeah, okay." Ms. Stewart tried to hug Ryan as he hustled out
of the apartment but he was too quick for her. He hurried through the door and
shut it behind him. His mother was left alone…with the videotape.

Chapter ten

"What are you doing?" Morgan asked as she entered Grace’s bedroom.

"Purging. There's way too much junk in here. It's driving me nuts,”
Grace said as she tossed a shirt over her shoulder.

"What is all this stuff?" Morgan crinkled her nose at the
out-of-date fashion that adorned the floor. "Is that a picture from
prom?"

"I don’t know. I’m not actually looking at the stuff. That would
take forever."

Morgan gasped when Grace said that. "You might throw something
important away!" she began going through Grace’s spoils.

"See, look." She held up a picture of Grace and Ryan. They
were at a restaurant and were making funny faces at the camera. "You can’t
get rid of this."

"Throw that away. No, tear it up, then throw it away,” Grace
ordered.

"Grace," Morgan sighed. "You love this picture."

"I do
not
love it. Look at me in that picture. I look
horrible."

"I think you look cute."

Grace didn’t bother to respond. She simply removed the picture from Morgan’s
grip and added it to her trash pile.

"I think you’re making a mistake. You’re going to regret this, Grace."

"I am not. I should have done this a long time ago. The sooner I
completely purge Ryan Stewart from my life, the better. Because if I don’t, a
few years from now, I’ll be going through this all over again," Grace was
angry. "This always happens to me. Ryan is like a magnet that draws me
back to the low points of my life. I can’t keep going there."

"If I remember correctly, you told me that Ryan was a highlight of
your life."

"Morgan, please. Just…let me do this, okay? I need to do
this."

"Fine, but on one condition. I want all those pictures. You’ll
never have to see them again, but please don’t throw them away."

"Oh please. Like you still have pictures of your exes."

"I have a few…mostly of Dylan."

Grace knew that wasn’t true. Under no condition would Morgan have kept
pictures of Dylan, her on-again-off-again boyfriend for most of her young adult
life. Despite that, she didn’t argue. Instead she handed a box of photographs
to Morgan and stated that she never wanted to see them again. As long as they
were out of her sight that was fine with her.

"I have to ask, though," Morgan put the pictures aside,
"Why’d you bother to bring all this stuff with you? It’s all, like, ten
years old."

"I didn’t want to leave it at home. I thought it would be of some
use to me,” Grace answered.

Morgan decided not to press for more information. She watched Grace for
a little while longer before suggesting the two go out on the town. After all,
Thursday night
was
a huge party night.

Grace surprised Morgan with her answer. "I can’t. I have a date,” Grace
said.

"With who?"

"Marshall."

"The
stalker?"
Morgan could not believe her ears.

"He’s not a stalker. Just an oven-enthusiastic friend."

"Grace, this is the guy who bought you lingerie after your first
date,” Morgan reminded her.

"He knew it was my favorite color." Grace made an excuse.

"What about that shrine he made of you? He’d been watching you for
months."

"He’s an art major. He said I inspired him."

"What about the self-inflicted
tattoo
of your name on his
forearm? He used a razor blade."

Grace stopped what she was doing and looked down at the mess she had
created around her. Then she looked over at Morgan.

"I forgot about that,” she admitted.

"I need to save you from yourself. Come on. Let’s get out of
here." Morgan pulled Grace out of the mire…literally.

Not able to talk Grace into going to a bar, Morgan and Grace decided to
take in a movie and a dessert at a local bakery.

"This has to be better than a date with Marshall,” Morgan gloated
after the movie.

Grace didn’t say anything. She was silent as she walked next to her
friend. She watched her feet as they walked to the car. Slew-footed is what her
father always called her. While she was taking in the position of her feet, she
noticed her too-small ankles and her knobby knees. And of course, ever since
high school, the little pooch of her belly that always threatened to dip over
her the top of her jeans.