I drove slowly until I saw the repair yard, and beyond the fence, bent over an engine block with his sleeves rolled up, was my son. The second I recognized the line of his shoulders, every fear I’d been running on for two days hit me at once. “Tom?” I called out.
He looked up. When he saw me, he froze. I got out and walked until I was standing right in front of him.
Then I held up the watch. His face fell. “Mom, I…”
“You thought leaving was somehow a gift?”
“I thought you’d finally be able to live your own life.”
“Tom,” I said softly, “what life do you think I’ve been living?”
“You weren’t the reason my life stayed small,” I said.
“You were the reason it was full.”
Tom’s face changed in that slow, pained way people’s do when a belief they’ve carried too long starts cracking. “I did not lose my life because I raised you,” I told him. “I chose my life, Tom.
Over and over. I chose you because I wanted you. Being your mother was never the thing that kept me from living.”
His mouth trembled.
“I just didn’t want to keep costing you.”
“You never cost me my life, dear. You gave it shape.”
Tom’s shoulders dropped. He covered his eyes with one hand, and I stepped forward and held him the way I had when he was small.
After a long minute, he said, “I’m sorry, Mom.”
He gave a wet, embarrassed laugh. “You found me fast.”
“I know what you think. That’s what mothers do.”
Tom glanced toward the yard office.
“I took a job here. Rented a room over the feed store.”
“You can tell me on the drive home,” I said. “Home?”
I slipped the watch into his shirt pocket.
“You don’t give love back by leaving. You bring it with you.”
Tom sat looking out at the road, then over at me every so often, like he was still confirming I was real. “I thought if I stayed,” Tom said, “you’d never get to be anything except my mom.”
He nodded slowly.
“I think I knew that sometimes. But then I’d look at everything you didn’t do.”
“You mean all the men I didn’t marry?”
He flushed. “Kind of.”
“Most of those decisions had a lot more to do with them than with you, sweetheart,” I said.
That made him laugh… tired and relieved, but real. “If I come back… can we still talk about college?” Tom then asked. “Yes.
Transferring, engineering, computer science… whatever new major you land on after three hours of internet research.”
He smiled. “I think I still want a future.”
I squeezed his shoulder. “Good.
That saves me a speech.”
I’d already called Danny to tell him I’d found Tom, and the relief in his voice had been immediate. When we pulled into the driveway, Tom turned to me. “Thank you for coming after me.”
