He stood at the front window until the minivan disappeared around the corner. For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I picked up my purse.
“Grab your backpack, buddy.”
He turned around. “Why?”
“Because we’re going to Harbor Falls.”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really.”
“But Aunt Lauren already left.”
“I know.”
“What about Grandma?”
I opened the front door.
“What about her?”
For the first time that morning, he smiled.
Harbor Falls was about forty minutes away. During the drive, Evan repeatedly asked if we were really going. I think part of him expected my phone to ring and for me to suddenly turn around because Grandma had convinced me we needed to understand Lauren’s situation.
That was normally how our family operated.
Lauren created a problem.
Everyone else adjusted.
Not that day.
When we reached the park, the regular parking lot was already packed. I checked the ticket options on my phone and saw that two VIP passes would cost $450.
Four hundred and fifty dollars.
I was the kind of woman who compared grocery prices and brought lunch from home instead of buying it. Spending $450 in one afternoon made my stomach tighten.
I could practically hear Lauren mocking me.
Must be nice to have money to waste.
Then I remembered all the extra shifts I had worked, all the vacation days I never used, and the way Evan had stood at Grandma’s window trying to pretend he wasn’t hurt.
I bought the passes.
“Mom,” he whispered when he saw the confirmation, “are those the special tickets?”
“Yep.”
“The ones where you get to skip some of the lines?”
“Those are the ones.”
He wrapped both arms around me so tightly that for a second I couldn’t breathe. Not because of the hug, but because I suddenly realized how rarely I spent money simply to create happiness for my own child.
I was always preparing for the next emergency.
And somehow Lauren was always the emergency.
