Bedroom Diplomacy(35)
“How old were you?”
“A very impressionable and fragile eleven.”
“She never came back?”
She shook her head. “She met a wealthy Swede who whisked her off to Europe. They had two adorable blond-haired, blue-eyed boys she named Blitz and Wagner, which between you and me always sounded like dog names. I was in high school when the rumors about her other affairs made it my way. Apparently she had quite a reputation in Washington. And there was speculation that she only married my father because she was pregnant with me.”
“Is it true?”
She shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t want to know.”
“Do you ever talk to her?”
“I get the occasional birthday or Christmas card, but I haven’t physically talked to her.”
“So it was just you and the senator?”
“It was mostly just me. He was never a doting father, but after she left, he completely checked out. I had this crazy idea that if I were the perfect child, he would notice me, maybe even be proud of me. But I finally realized that no matter how high my grades were, no exemplary behavior or good deed would ever please him. He only needed me around for photo shoots or fund-raiser appearances. Anything to make him look good. Beyond that, I was either ignored or criticized. So finally I decided, why be good when being bad is so much more fun? And even better, I could make him look bad.”
“Because bad attention is better than no attention at all,” he said.
“Exactly.”
“Did it work?”
“Oh, yeah, too well. The drinking and the drugs, not only did they make him mad as hell, but they had this way of making things seem better. They numbed me. Which of course turned out to be a really bad thing.”
“Do you blame your father for your addictions?”
“God, no. Not at all. I’m the only one responsible for my actions. It was a bad situation, and I only made it worse. My only real regret isn’t what I did to him, but all the other people who loved and cared about me. Those are the people I really hurt.”
“But look at you now. You’ve gotten past all that.”
“It’s still scary sometimes, though. The idea that I might backslide, that I could let Dylan down.”
“Everyone is afraid of something. If you weren’t you wouldn’t be human.”
“I guess.”
He yawned and closed his eyes.
She checked his forehead again. It felt a little cooler this time. She was about to say that she should go and let him get to sleep, but his slow, even breathing said he already was asleep.
She sat there for a few minutes more, probably longer than she should have, watching him sleep. Though it was tempting to slide into bed with him, she slept on the couch instead.
She woke to the sensation of someone poking her in the back. She figured it was Colin being goofy and thought that he must have been feeling better this morning, but when she rolled over to face him, it was Dylan standing beside the couch.
“Hi, Mommy!”
She sat up, confused and disoriented, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Is Colin up?”
“He sweepin’,” Dylan said.
“Then how did you get out of bed?”
He looked up at her, beaming with pride. “I cwimed out. I gedda big bed now!”
Her heart slammed the wall of her chest, then sank to her toes. “Dylan Michael Tate, don’t you ever do that again!”
The pride melted away and his lower lip began to tremble. He lowered his gaze to the carpet, fat tears pooling in his eyes, and said, “Sawee, Mommy.”
She felt instantly guilty for yelling. She gathered him in her arms. “No, Mommy is sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted. I’m just afraid that you’ll hurt yourself.”
He snuggled against her chest, so tiny and quivering. “I wanna be a big boy.”
“I know you do, sweetheart, and you will be. You just have to be patient.” Not an easy thing for a toddler, she knew.
“Everything okay out here?”
Rowena looked up to see Colin leaning in the doorway, barefooted and shirtless, his jogging pants slung low on his hips.
“Cowin!” Dylan shrieked, darting across the room faster than he should have and wrapping himself around Colin’s legs. Colin reached down and patted the top of his head.
“Dylan climbed out of his crib by himself this morning,” Rowena told him.
“I know,” Colin said, and she noticed he wasn’t leaning on the wall so much as sagging against it for support. “He came in the bedroom looking for you.”
“So much for our plan,” she said, hoping this didn’t confuse Dylan further.
“He’s never climbed out of his crib before?” Colin asked.