Page 65

Story: Lookin’ for Love

sixty-four f

Another Visit

W henever Tom granted me permission, I visited Tommy and Lee. Tommy now attended Pace University. Lee, still in high school, had become a super-athlete and a scholar. The older they became, the less time they wanted to spend with me.

How could I blame them? I’d missed most of their childhood and adolescence. Against my will, I’d turned them over to an alcoholic and abusive father, but that’s not how they saw things. Tom had convinced them I’d deserted my family, that I didn’t care enough to fight for them.

I invited Lee for a visit to celebrate his graduation from high school in 1985. To my surprise, he accepted. I cleaned my apartment and locked my stash in a jewelry box, which I hid in the back of my closet. In my mind, it was a step toward sobriety.

My handsome son arrived in a beat-up 1978 Ford Fiesta. I watched him scan the complex searching for my apartment.

“Over here, Lee!” I called from my balcony.

No smile or wave—he simply nodded in my direction and headed for my building.

“Congratulations, graduate!” I opened the door and reached to hug him. Subtly he backed away, and stiffly accepted my gesture.

“I thought we could have lunch, then I’ll take you shopping. Can’t have my son starting college without the right clothes.”

“I have plenty of clothes.”

“But nothing from me.” As soon as the words exited my mouth, I knew I’d made a mistake.

“That’s right,” Lee said. “Nothing from you.”

I brushed off his comment. “C’mon in. I made chicken salad, your favorite.”

“I haven’t eaten chicken salad since I was ten. But you wouldn’t know that. What do you really know about me?”

I scrambled for words to save the day.

We sat—two strangers staring at each other, struggling for conversation. I learned Lee had received a full athletic scholarship to Fordham University. He planned to major in political science.

“I’m so proud of you,” I said. “Where did you get your ambition?”

“Not from you or Dad,” he said. “I’ve had to fight for myself since the day you left us.”

“I didn’t leave you.” I scrambled for the right words. “Your father took you and Tommy from me. He beat me, destroyed me.”

“Dad’s got his problems, but he’s always been there. Always gave us a home.”

My plans for the day—shopping, dinner, maybe even an overnight stay—evaporated. Lee itched to be on his way.

He stood to leave. “I don’t want to hit traffic on the George Washington Bridge.”

“Before you go,” I said, “I’ve been saving money to help you with college.”

“I told you I got a full scholarship.”

“But you’ll need clothes, books, maybe even a computer. Please, Lee, let me help you.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

His words pierced my heart.

“If you change your mind, you know where I am.” I touched his arm as he walked out the door.

“Thanks for lunch.”

I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I saw my youngest son.