The Good Mom (11 page)

Wow
, Aidan thought. He gave her a smile of encouragement.

She crossed her arms and stared hard at Aidan. “So let's continue. What is the situation with Brandon's tests? Tell us the absolute truth.”

He spread his hands. “Well, you signed a release allowing me to see his scores. I assume you're okay with discussing them in front of Brandon.”

She nodded. “Yes, please.”

To Brandon he said, “It was a requirement of allowing the school to find you a tutor. Although honestly, in our case, I'm more of a mentor than a tutor. I'm not a trained teacher.”

Ashley leveled a gaze at him. “We understand. Speak plainly to us, please. We're open to hearing what you recommend.”

Aidan sucked in a breath. Brandon's lips were twisting. He moved closer to his mother, and she put her arm around his shoulder.

It blew Aidan's mind how close they were. He had been so alone. He'd always been alone, really. He'd never known the extent of it.

It just made him want to help them even more, however he could, for as long as he was here. Just a couple of weeks. He could get them pretty well started in that time.

But the final success was going to be up to Brandon. Aidan couldn't do his work for him, and he needed to learn that difficult fact now.

“Look,” Aidan said to Brandon. “I know how hard St. Bart's is. Truthfully, I barely survived the place. I almost flunked out my first year, and I didn't have anyone to help me. I had all the expectations of the world on me...”
Aw, hell.
Brandon didn't need to know this. This wasn't about him; it was about the boy. He cleared his throat and changed tack. “Frankly, the math admissions aptitude pretest shows that you're at the very bottom of your class. You did okay in your English and history tests, but—”

“His aunt helped him with those,” Ashley murmured. “She loves literature and history.”

Aidan nodded. “His science is passable for now, though he'll need to stick with it hard, but math.” He shook his head. “What happened with math?” he asked bluntly. “He's starting behind most of the other students.” To Brandon, he said, “Math is cumulative. You get behind just a little bit, and it's very difficult to catch up. Trust me—I know.”

“Math is stupid,” Brandon muttered. “I don't need it to be a doctor.”

Aidan shook his head. “Math and science are key foundations for medicine. I'm sure your aunt told you that.”

Brandon's lower lip stuck out.

“Your aunt Lisbeth helped you with math,” Ashley said. “I remember she sent you a workbook. I
heard
you going over the problem sets with her over the phone.”

Brandon scowled.

“She did, didn't she?” she pressed.

“There was an answer key in the back,” Brandon admitted.

“Brandon!” Ashley looked appalled. “It's my fault. I didn't pay close enough attention.” She stared helplessly at Aidan. “Honestly, math...well, it intimidates me. It's like a foreign language.”

He smiled. “I remember when I felt the same way.”

“Seriously?”

“I had to teach myself. And then one day, it clicked and it all made sense.”

“Well...” Ashley shook her head as she turned toward Brandon. “I'm hoping that will happen for Brandon, too.”

“He's capable,” Aidan said. “The school gave him an intelligence test as part of his entrance exam, and his raw scores are off the charts.”

“Really?” Brandon asked, clearly pleased. “Cool!”

Aidan gave him a stern look. “But in your case, I think your natural talent has probably hindered you, discipline-wise. You never learned study skills, did you? You were able to skate by with a minimum of practice and focus, weren't you?”

Brandon looked warily at him. Aidan doubted that any adult had spoken so bluntly to him before.

Well, he had to hear it. He was old enough to be making his own choices and decisions. Aidan had had to learn this fact, too, many years ago. At some point, childhood ended.

“You have an important choice to make,” Aidan said plainly. “If you want me to work with you, you have to be ready at seven o'clock. That means you have to be done with dinner with your mom. You should have your other homework finished, and that means you have to work during your study periods at school. You can't be goofing off with the other boys.”

From Brandon's pink cheeks, Aidan knew he'd hit on the guilty truth. It had been easy to see that first day when Aidan had met him in the cafeteria.

But there was more Aidan needed to say, and it wouldn't be what Brandon, or maybe Ashley, wanted to hear. Or an easy choice for them to make.

“Another thing,” Aidan said. “You can't be up late watching baseball games on the West Coast. Or any coast at all.” He held up his hand to Brandon's protest. “We're just getting started here. Show me an area in your room where you can focus on your work.”

Brandon glanced at his mother. Ashley gave him a nod. “Show him. This has to be your decision to make. I can't do the work for you.”

Aidan gave her credit for that. A lot of people did do the work for their kids. They made the calls, did the legwork, wrote the checks. He'd seen it in his orthopedics practice. College-age student athletes who couldn't set up their own rehab sessions without their parents coordinating everything for them.

Brandon's thin shoulders sagged as he led Aidan into a room at the end of the corridor, off the kitchen. Across the hall was a second doorway, shut. Probably Ashley's bedroom. He wouldn't let himself think about that.

Brandon's room looked like an electronics store, with distractions galore.

Ashley had followed them. She stood to the side, her arms crossed, expression cloudy. But she was listening to Aidan. Not fighting what he had to say. That was a start.

“Do you want to thrive at St. Bartholomew's?” Aidan asked Brandon gravely.

“Well, yeah...”

“Then you've got to give some things up.”

Brandon shook his head. “I'm not giving up the ball boy job.” He set his chin.

Aidan's resolution flagged. He did have some sense of survival. Gram would kill him if he shut down her best fundraiser and kept him from her ballpark. “Weekends only,” Aidan relented. “One home game per weekend, period, that's all you can handle for now.”

“That's all I do anyway.” Brandon looked like he was grinding his teeth. “And what if I get my math skills up in a week or two? Then I won't need you at all. Then I can go back to as I was.”

“Nope. Sorry. Won't happen that fast.” He glanced at Ashley. She was nodding slightly, backing him up.

“I
have
to go to the hospital on Sundays.” Brandon looked like he was seething. “I visit the kids in the cancer wards. The Sunshine Club.”

Aidan couldn't tell if Brandon was saying this genuinely, or if he was arguing for the sake of arguing because he was upset. “The kids will understand if you need some time off for a few months to take care of yourself and get your studies in order.”

Brandon glared at him.

“You need to take care of yourself, Brandon, the same as a sick child might. Your situation is serious. You would tell a sick patient to take all the time they need, and so should you.”

“I'm not sick!”

“No, you're not. But you're in danger of not being asked back next semester. It'll happen sooner than you think, and when it does, there's no going back. Fix yourself and learn to study now, while you can.”

The boy's eyes widened. Suddenly, he looked every bit the scared preteen that he was.

“Dr. Lowe,” Ashley said in a warning voice. “Maybe you should get started with the lesson?”

She didn't understand. This
was
his lesson. He might not be a qualified tutor, but he knew he could be a damn good mentor. Aidan stalked over to Brandon's dresser and reached behind it, feeling for the plug. He found it and unplugged it from the electrical source. He disconnected the rest of the cords from the back. Then he lifted the television monitor and turned to Ashley. “Is there a closet where we can lock this up?”

She gaped at him.

“No!” Brandon said. “I need to watch the baseball game—”

But Aidan had turned and walked into the corridor. Ashley caught up with him and dashed ahead. She put her hand up, and he stopped obediently.

“You're overstepping,” she said. “You're making a good point, but you don't need to be so pushy and nasty about it.”

“Pushy and nasty?” Maybe he should be glad she hadn't said “rude.”

“You will do it kindly,” Ashley told him. “You will treat us as you would
like
to be treated, not necessarily as you
were
treated.”

She gave him a knowing look, and he had to swallow at her wisdom. Nobody had ever put it to him quite like that before.

He put the television set down on the floor. Then he turned to Brandon, who had followed them out to the hallway.

“Please,” Aidan said to the boy. “Your mom and I need to hold your electronics for you, just for a few weeks, while you're learning some new study skills.”

Brandon glanced at his mother, then back at Aidan. “So you're taking my television away—is that it?”

“Yes, Brandon,” Ashley said softly.

Aidan watched her walk across the apartment and then disappear into a room behind the kitchen. There was noise as she did something he couldn't see.

Brandon scowled, his thin arms crossed. The two of them just stared at each other for a moment.

Ashley came out holding an empty laundry basket. “We'll keep his electronics in here,” she said. “Just for a few weeks, until he learns to study without distraction.”

Aidan saw how much easier it was, having her support. “Brandon, will you follow me to your room, please?”

Brandon scowled, but he followed.

In Brandon's bedroom, Aidan directed the boy to put his game controllers inside.

Brandon set his chin. “I don't see why—”

Ashley put the game controllers in the laundry basket. There was a radio on the cluttered desk, and she put that in, too.

“Hey!” Brandon said. “Sometimes I listen to the game in bed at night.”

“Brandon,” Ashley said calmly. “Please cooperate with us. I see what Dr. Lowe is doing. He's ridding your study space of distractions. He's going to teach you how to study.”

“He has no idea how kids study. I can't have quiet. I can't think with quiet. I need my earbuds.” He pulled his earbuds from around his neck.

“Please, Brandon, put those in the basket,” Aidan said.

“No. You two know nothing about kids today. You're both crazy.”

* * *

A
SHLEY
GAZED
FROM
Aidan to her son. She'd never seen Brandon like this, and it hurt. Usually, she gave him everything—he'd been such a sweet kid. And of course, after he'd been diagnosed with leukemia as a toddler, she'd fallen to pieces over it. She couldn't bear the thought of losing her sweet child. So she'd spoiled him maybe, but everybody had said he was a good boy. And she tried so hard to be a good mom. It was the only thing that mattered to her. The best thing she could do was to do what was best for him.

It hurt her to be this hard on him now. But she understood what Aidan was doing, helping him mature and grow up and learn to be the student he needed to be if he was to achieve his dreams.

“Brandon,” she said quietly, trying not to wring her hands. Trying to show him that she was serious. “Please cooperate with us.”

“Mom—what is the point? I know how to study. I've been figuring out school on my own for my whole life.”

She winced. It was a dig, a slight one, against her. She knew she was inadequate on the educational front. Unlike her doctor sister, Ashley hadn't even lasted a year in college.

She noticed Aidan watching her reaction to Brandon's words. She felt herself turning red with embarrassment. He was doing her a favor, helping her with Brandon. Tit for tat, that was all. She'd helped him with his deceased girlfriend's—deceased ex-girlfriend's—parents. She'd handled it well. Flo and Albert trusted her. Albert had even given her his business card when she'd left Aidan's apartment that day. She should
not
feel inadequate. They each had their strengths. She felt herself lifting her chin a little bit higher. She and Aidan would be a team on this.

“Ashley, would you please bring me the textbook I brought?” he asked her kindly. “It's out on the kitchen table.”

She went and retrieved it, plus a notebook he'd brought, feeling a bit like his helper in a difficult procedure.
Please, Nurse, bring me my scalpel.
The thought made her giggle, despite herself.

When she returned, Aidan was sitting in Brandon's desk chair. He'd had to clear off a pile of dirty clothes to do so, and these she calmly picked up and brought to the hamper in the bathroom. At home—in their other home, the one they'd just left—the routines had been firmly established and clear, but here, in their new life, some had fallen by the wayside. She saw that she'd have to step up the rules again.

She came back, and Aidan was writing something on an empty page in the notebook. Her heart sank. It was a mathematical formula, but it looked like gobbledygook to her.

Brandon sat on the bed, sulking, his arms crossed and a frown on his face. She hated to see her normally happy boy in such a snit, but better to correct his bad habits now than to let him suffer devastating loss and failure at the end of the semester.

Aidan held out the math formula. “Brandon, pretend this problem is going to be on your next math test. Please solve it for me.”

Brandon's expression warred between anger and curiosity. Even she wondered if Aidan had been given the test in advance. That couldn't be true—could it?