Broken Lion (7 page)

It doesn’t matter why!
Minka’s voice screamed in my head.

Shit.

She was right.

I needed to leave Brigid alone.

For all I knew, Brigid had a good reason for avoiding me.

Chapter 7

BRIGID

THREE WEEKS LATER

My doorbell rang and I jumped up from the couch.

I tore the door open.

“Daniel!”

“Hey, Mom.”

I knelt down and threw my arms around my son. It felt so good to hold him.

“Let go, Mom. You’re squashing me.”

I pulled away. “Sorry. Did you grow while you were gone?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well you look taller. You’re really shooting up like a weed these days.” He was ten going on sixteen.

“I’m not a weed,” he groused. Make that ten going on ten.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Why was talking to my son always so difficult?

Daniel had gone to Europe with his dad and his dad’s parents, Grandma and Grandpa Wright. It was a month long trip. I hadn’t been too hot on the idea of him being gone so long, but Grandma and Grandpa insisted on it. They said you needed at least that long to do Europe. There was no way I could take that much time off. The Wrights could. They owned a flourishing insurance business that they’d built from the ground up over the last 35 years. In LA, that made them old money. So it was okay for the boss and the boss’ son to take a month off for a family vacation.

Excluding me.

The condo had felt painfully empty with Daniel gone for so long. Normally he was here every other week. A week on, a week off. All I had to keep me company for the past month was work. I was so happy to have him back.

Daniel groaned, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

I was still holding his arms. I let go. “Okay. You know where it is.”

Outside, his father waited in his black BMW. The glare on the windows hid his face. I couldn’t tell if he was watching or not. Donald never came to the door when he dropped off Daniel. It was just as well. Talking to him was always difficult. Like father, like son, I guess.

I waved to be polite.

“Bye, Dad!” Daniel said it with enthusiasm and waved excitedly.

Why was I always such a downer to my son? He wasn’t this distant with his father.

The Beemer’s horn honked and Donald drove away.

“How was Europe?” When there was no answer, I turned. Daniel was already gone. I heard the bathroom door close. It felt like he wasn’t even here. Just the ghost of my son passing through.

Would it be like this forever?

Would my son forget me altogether when he went off to college?

Or would it happen sooner? Would I walk into his bedroom one morning to find an open window with the curtains billowing into the cold empty room and a note on the bed that read
I’d rather live with Dad.

I fought back tears.

It hurt that my own son wasn’t excited to see me anymore. It hurt worse that he was always sad to leave Donald’s house when I picked him up. I didn’t know what I did to make him so sad. It wasn’t like I was a taskmaster or a tyrant. I was nice. Like any parent, I made him do chores and pick up after himself and do his schoolwork, but I made sure he had fun too. Was there some unwritten law that moms were no longer cool once a boy turned ten?

Or was it all my fault because I spent so much time at the hospital?

Nobody ever told me that becoming a doctor so you could save lives and help other people meant you wouldn’t have time for your own family.

As much as I loved being a doctor, I often wondered what would’ve happened if I had chosen a different career path. Would Donald and I still be married? He wasn’t a bad man.

That you know of.
Candy’s words echoed in my mind.

No, I didn’t think Donald had cheated on me. He wasn’t turning down my offers for sex. It was the opposite. He would literally beg me to have sex. But I was always too tired. Between the ungodly doctor’s hours and raising Daniel, I had no energy for sex. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d told Donald we would have sex tomorrow or next week, then never did.

I remembered Candy’s advice about giving weekly blowjobs to your man. Would that have saved my marriage? Was it really that simple?

Who knew.

It was too late to do anything about it now.

Daniel had finished in the bathroom and gone straight to his bedroom and closed the door. I stared at it. I could open it, but I wanted to respect his privacy. He would come out when he was ready. Or with proper motivation.

“Daniel?” I called through the door. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Do you want pizza?”

“No!”

“How about we go out for pizza and get ice cream after?”

“I’m not hungry!” He said it like I was asking him to clean the toilets with his tongue.

I sighed and dragged myself to the kitchen. So much for my fantasy of him telling me all about his trip to Europe over a meal so I could at least share in the fun that way. I’d have to settle for looking at the photo album his Grandma Linda would inevitably post on Facebook when she got around to it.

Maybe someday I would be as close to my son as Latisha was to her three sons. Or as close as I was to Daniel when he was a baby. His first year, which was my last year at UCLA as an undergrad, I had time for him. But after med school started, there was never enough time. Starting my third year, and continuing on into my residency, it was like I was never there. Back then, I questioned my decision to become a doctor every single day, but I stuck with it. I knew some mothers held down three jobs to make ends meet. They didn’t have a choice. I knew because I treated them in the ECU and they told me about it. I didn’t think I deserved to have it any easier just because I was a doctor.

Now it didn’t matter because there was no going back. Daniel wasn’t a baby and I was still working more hours than I liked. With all my loans and my mountain of bills, I didn’t have a choice. I knew some moms managed to stay close to their sons all their lives. Sadly, it seemed like the trick was simply spending more time with them.

If only I could figure out how.

<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

“I’m hungry, Mom.”

I was sitting on the couch with the TV turned down.

Now he was hungry. Two hours had passed since he went and hid in his room. I hadn’t eaten anything because I wanted to wait for him. I was well past starving. “Okay. How about pizza? It’s your favorite.”

“We had pizza in Italy a hundred times.” How was it that everything he said made me feel like I was a terrible mother?

“Oh. Okay. I forgot to ask you, where are your bags from the trip?”

“Grandma Linda made me put everything away at her house.” The Wright Estate was so large, my ex Donald lived there with his parents, Grandma and Grandpa Wright. Donald had his own wing with a separate entrance. Before the divorce, I had lived there too. It was luxurious to say the least. Yes, Donald still lived with his parents. But it wasn’t the same. It was more like living in an apartment complex with your parents, but you were at opposite ends. You didn’t know they were there half the time. Donald made more than enough money to buy his own house, but I think his parents liked having him close by and it made it easy for Linda to care for Daniel when the Wright men were at the office.

“Oh. Well, you’ve got clothes here so you should be okay.” Why did it always feel like Grandma Linda was trying to steal my son from me?

“Can we go eat already?”

I barked, “Could you ask nicely?”

He frowned. Just like his father.

I wanted to cry. I couldn’t tell my son how he broke my heart when he treated me this way. I tried to calm down. “What’s the magic word, Daniel?”

“Please.”

“Okay,” I sniffed. “What would you like to eat?”

“I don’t know.”

“How about Mexican? You didn’t have Mexican food in Europe, did you?”

“No.” The corner of his mouth tugged. Daniel was an ace in geography. He knew the names of every single country, the capitol city, and where they were on the map. He thought for a moment. “Actually, we did have Mexican food in Germany.”

“German Mexican food? Was that any good?”

“No.” He smiled.

“Then we’ll make up for it and get your favorite dish. Huevos Rancheros. For dinner. You still like that, right?” It saddened me that I was doubting how well I knew my own son.

“Yes.”

At least I knew that much.

We drove to El Torero’s, our favorite Mexican restaurant in Burbank. While we waited for our food to arrive, Daniel wolfed down tortilla chips. I worried he would spoil his appetite. Nope. When our Huevos Rancheros arrived, Daniel wolfed that down too.

“Can we get ice cream now?”

“Maybe you should have some more tortilla chips.”

“I want ice cream.”

“Okay. But can I finish eating first?”

“Sure. Can I play Candy Crush?”

“Not while we’re eating.”

He rolled his eyes. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Talk to your mom, silly. Tell me about Europe. What was your favorite thing?”

He looked out the window thoughtfully. Then his eyes lit up. “Did you know they have a real Harry Potter castle in France? I saw it at France Miniature.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s called Mount Saint Mitchell. It’s on a lake and everything.”

“Oh! You mean
Mont Saint Michel
.” I took French in high school and knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Yeah that.” His eyes glimmered. “And there was this place called Asterix Park. They have this roller coaster and you can see Zeus’ underwear!”

“What do you mean?”

“You know Zeus? From Greek mythology? He has a roller coaster at Asterix Park. He’s all green and he’s really tall and he’s throwing a lightning bolt at you but you can see up his dress.” He was very excited.

“Zeus wears a dress?”

“Yeah! And under it you can see his underwear!”

“You can?” I tried to imagine it.

“Yeah! They’re whitey tighties!” Daniel laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

“Wow. Did you take pictures?”

He shrugged. “Ask Grandma.”

It hurt that he’d had all this fun with his dad and his grandparents and I missed all of it. The idea nearly brought me to tears. At least he was happy. I set my utensils down and wiped my hands on my napkin.

“Ready for ice cream?”

“Yeah!”

We drove to the Baskin Robbins nearby. It was in a strip mall. A huge crowd of people were gathered outside the entrance of one of the other stores a few doors down. There were streamers tied to the roof, lots of balloons, and a big GRAND OPENING sign.

“What’s that?” Daniel asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Can we go see?”

“Sure. But don’t you want your ice cream first?”

“Oh yeah.”

We bought ice cream cones and took them outside to see what the commotion was. Music pumped inside and the people cheered and clapped loudly. The people standing outside crowded around the windows, watching. Daniel looked between their arms and elbows, trying to see.

“It’s a karate class, Mom!”

Inside, a bunch of kids and teenagers wearing martial arts uniforms were lined up along the walls while more kids did kicks and punches in unison in the middle of the large space. Blue mats covered the floor from wall to wall. I didn’t know much about martial arts, but it looked like they were doing some kind of show. We watched for a while. Daniel was fascinated.

“Mom, can I take karate?”

“Maybe.”

“Please, Mom, please?”

“We’ll have to talk to your dad.”

“If he says yes, can I?”

“I don’t know, Daniel. Aren’t you busy with soccer?”

“This is different!”

“We should probably go. It’s getting late.” I didn’t know what it was, but something about this situation made me nervous.

“But they’re still going. Can’t we stay and watch?”

“Fine,” I sighed. “But just for a few minutes.”

Daniel had never been this excited about soccer. We had to practically drag him to practice. If it wasn’t for soccer, I don’t think he would’ve exercised. Just played video games all day. Why did he have to pick fighting as his sport?

Inside, whoever was running things was describing the action on a microphone while high energy music played. Some of the older kids did a routine with metal swords that had sashes on the hilts. They were swinging them at each other so fast and so close, I was worried someone might slice off a finger or a nose, but no one got hurt.

“That was awesome!” Daniel gasped. “I wanna do that, Mom!”

Terrific. Kicks and punches were one thing. Sword fighting was another. I didn’t want my son getting beheaded.

“Please! Can I?!”

“We’ll have to see what your dad says.” I hoped Donald said no. I didn’t want to be the bad guy. I was already the bad guy more often than not.

“Give them a round of applause, everybody,” the announcer said over the microphone. The boys with the swords took a bow and ran off the blue mats. “Next up is what most of you came for. Lion Maxwell is here tonight to celebrate the grand opening of our newest dojo! Everybody give it up for Lion Maxwell!”

The crowd whistled and cheered.

“Thanks for coming out tonight,” Lion said over the microphone.

That voice…

Ooze.

Oh no.

<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

I immediately ducked down below the shoulders of the two men in front of me. “Daniel, we should really go,” I hissed.

“But you said we could stay, Mom!”

“Okay, okay.” I promised myself I wouldn’t be the bad guy. Maybe Lion wouldn’t notice me.

Lion rolled into the middle of the big room in a wheelchair.

That was odd. I could see him using crutches, but a wheelchair? Was the injury worse than it appeared on the MRI? Or had he not followed his therapy protocol closely enough? Something told me a rule breaker like Lion had probably done exactly that.

“How’re you all doing tonight?” Lion asked through the microphone.

The crowd applauded. A few people whistled.

“I can’t tell you how excited I am that we’re opening this new dojo here in Burbank. You guys are incredible. Thank you so much for coming out tonight.”