Me and My Boys

Our “welcome to the neighborhood” visit kind of turned into an all day event, but Zach didn’t seem to mind. When he had opened the door, his eyes were red rimmed, and I knew immediately that he had been crying. I had seen some of his teammates leave a few minutes earlier rather pissed looking, but it wasn’t until around 8:30 or so that I got to ask him about it. The boys were so excited to finally get to hang out with a guy (especially an NHLer) that they had been all over the place for most of the day. They finally passed out on Zach’s couch as Zach and I washed dishes. I could feel Zach’s eyes on the back of my neck as I washed one of the plates and put it on the drain board.

“What?” I asked, turning around. He ran a hand through his hair.

“I was just kind of curious about…about the boys,” he muttered, his cheeks flaming. I sighed and shook my head.

“You’re not the first person to ask, so don’t be embarrassed. Most people just assume, so in a way, I’m glad you asked…” I started to say, but I crept into the other room to make sure the boys were sleeping before I continued to talk.

“I’m not your typical ‘teen mom’ story, but I’ll try and spare you the gory details. The truth is…I was raped by one of the kids at my high school. He had a horrible childhood…the abusive parents, the horribly foster care, the works. I was his science tutor, and one day, things got a little out of hand. I was helping him with his biology…” I said quietly, but Zach held up his hand.

“I don’t need to know any more if you don’t want to tell me,” he said quietly. I looked at him, and then sighed in relief.

“You’re the first person I’ve told in a very long time,” I said.

“Really?” he asked. I nodded, and then started to dry the dishes.

“Yeah…like I said, most people don’t ask questions. They just assume. A young, confident woman with two kids…well, most people think I just slept around,” I said.

“You’re happy though, so who cares?” he asked. I turned around and stared at him in surprise.

“Camille, you’re making a mistake! There is no way anyone is going to hire you! They’re going to think you’re a slut with those boys of yours, and nobody will take you seriously. Why don’t you ever listen to me? This has been a curse from the day it happened!”

“Mom, you’re the one who told me to get an abortion, you’re the one who told me to quit school, and you’re the one who has been a curse to me this entire time! Don’t you dare try and tell me that what I’m doing is the wrong thing to do. I am doing this for my sons, and nothing you say is going to stop me. If you so much as think of coming near my sons again, so help me God I will make your life a living hell. Don’t think that just because you’re their grandmother means that you have any authority on how I raise them. Do us all a favor, and stay out of our lives,”

“You’d be surprised…” I croaked. Zach’s face fell, and he immediately took the dish out of my hands.

“Look, I know I just met you, but let me promise you that I’m the last person who would judge you. Those are two of the greatest kids I have ever met, and you’re doing a phenomenal job raising them. You all look so happy, so screw what the rest of the world thinks. Family is all you have in this world,” Zach said, and I turned to look at the two boys, who were nestled up together on the couch. They were so precious, their tufts of golden hair falling onto fair faces. Their thick, dark eyelashes framed their eyes just right, and they mimicked each other even as they slept. They looked like little angels, and I smiled broadly.

“Those boys mean everything to me…so it’s nice to know that you won’t think of me any differently because of them,” I said.

“I do think of you differently though…but in a good way. I think more highly of you now that I know about them…not that I didn’t think well of you before,” Zach stammered. I laughed, and then pinched the bridge of my nose.

“I don’t know how I’m going to get them home,” I muttered.

“Get your coat on, and then I’ll help you,” Zach said.

*Zach’s Point of View*

A few minutes later, I was scooping one of the twins into my arms. He sighed and curled into my chest, and Camille and I hurried across the street. It was bitterly cold out, and she flung the front door open as quickly as she could to get the boys out of the wind. She led me up the stairs and pointed to the bedroom to my right.

“That’s Jack’s room,” she whispered before disappearing into the room to her left. I flipped the light switch with my elbow, and walked over to the gray and red bed. I pulled back the thick gray comforter, folded the crimson sheet, and then put Jack in his bed. I pulled the sheet up around his shoulders, tucked it in, and then stepped back. I glanced around the room and chuckled quietly. There were hockey sticks, and pucks, and posters everywhere. A lego tower sat in one corner, and a pile of books in the other. A tiny Devils jersey was folded neatly on top of the bureau. I turned the light off, and walked back into the hallway to find myself face to face with Camille.

“You handled that well…thanks so much for helping me out,” she said quietly.

“It’s not a problem,” I said, smiling at her. Her blue eyes were full of an appreciative approval, and I felt something inside me squirm. She folded her arms over her chest, and then ran down the steps. She shut the front door, and I walked back down as well.

“Well, thank you for the great dinner, and the excellent company,” I said, both of us standing in the foyer.

“Hey, what are neighbors for? Besides, the boys got a kick out of hanging out with you. They don’t get to see many men other than their coaches and the dads of some of the boys on their team,” she shrugged.

“Well if they ever need some man time, just let me know. I’d be glad to…I don’t know, shoot around with them, teach them how to throw a football or whatever,” I shrugged. For some reason, it felt like something so natural to offer. I felt bad for the boys in a way, having to grow up without a dad, but then again, Camille had so much love for them that she could equal ten great parents.

“Thanks…I’m sure they’d love that. Jacques and Jean need some male guidance I think,” Camille said. I raised my eyebrows.

“Jacques and Jean?” I asked.

“Oh yeah…Jack’s name is really Jean, and Jimmy’s full name is Jacques. I’m Québécois…well, first generation American anyway. My parents are from Québec, so I stuck with the tradition and gave the boys French names. A lot of people have trouble saying the French names though, so they have American nicknames. Jack is the nickname for John, John is translated to Jean…Jimmy is James, James is Jacques…you get the drill. That’s part of the reason why Jimmy has a speech impediment I think…he originally learned French. They both did.” she explained. I nodded.

“So, French-Canadian by descent huh? I can dig it,” I laughed. Camille rolled her eyes and laughed.

“Yeah, I’m sure you could with your heritage,” she smiled.

“Hey, not everyone can be French-Canadian-American,” I smirked. Camille chuckled again, and I grinned. She had a beautiful laugh, like little silver bells.

“No, but only the best are, huh?” she smiled, and I nodded.

“Exactly…well I’ll let you get to bed, I’m sure you’re tired. Goodnight Camille,” I said, opening the front door.

“Bon soir Zach,” she smiled softly. For a moment, we stood there, eyes locked, smiling at each other, but then I forced myself to leave.

“Bon soir Camille,” I whispered into the cold night air.