Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Damien pouts. “I wanna go back to school.”
“I know, and you will—”
“Tomorrow?” he cuts me off.
“No, not tomorrow. Hopefully—”
“It’s not fair!” he cries, his tiny fists hitting the water and splashing. “I wanna go to school!”
He starts to cry, and I take a calming breath, reminding myself that he’s overtired and emotional. Moving to a new place and everything changing have been a lot for me, so I know it’s a lot for him as well.
“And you will,” I tell him, pulling the drain plug and grabbing the towel.
I intended to get him out before he had a full-blown meltdown, but the second I pick him up, he arches his back and loses it—kicking and flailing about, tears pouring down his face.
“What the hell is going on in here?” Dominick barks, appearing out of nowhere.
I jump, assuming that he’s pissed that Damien is being loud and unruly, and hold Damien closer, preparing to protect him from Dominick’s wrath.
“He’s—” I begin, but Damien cuts me off.
“It’s not fair!” he wails. “I wanna go to school. I wanna see Frankie and Gracie and Ms. Judy. It’s not fair!”
Dominick stalks toward us, and I retreat, the back of my legs hitting the side of the tub. I’m cornered with nowhere to go, and I need to protect my baby.
I tighten my hold on Damien and try to turn around to get him out of harm’s way, but before I can, Dominick plucks him out of my arms.
I open my mouth to yell at him, to stop him from hurting our son. He’s just a little boy, and sometimes, he’s going to throw temper tantrums.
But before I can get a word out, Dominick says, “Hey, buddy, it’s okay,” his voice soothing as he holds Damien close to his chest, not caring that his wet body is soaking his clothes. “What’s the matter?”
Damien sniffles, several tears sliding down his cheeks, and Dominick wipes them away.
“Talk to me, buddy. Tell me what’s wrong. I’ll make it better. I promise.”
His soft tone—the opposite of what I was expecting—causes me to choke up.
He wasn’t going to hurt him.
He wants to fix it.
“I want to go to school,” Damien says, fresh tears filling his eyes. “But Mommy said no.”
Dominick glances at me and then back to Damien. “If you want to go to school, then you can go to school.”
I should tell him that giving in to Damien’s demands during a meltdown sets a bad precedent, but something in Dominick’s eyes tells me to let it go. We can talk about it later. He’s clearly distraught from Damien crying, but not in the way I thought.
“Tomorrow?” Damien asks, optimistic.
“Yeah, buddy, tomorrow.” Dominick wraps the towel around Damien and kisses his forehead. “We’ll find you a school tomorrow.”
Dominick carries Damien into his room and helps him get dressed into his pajamas while Damien tells him everything he wants to do at school. Dominick listens patiently, telling him he’ll make sure the school has everything he wants and needs.
Guilt fills my insides like lead. I thought he was mad, but he wasn’t. He was distraught because he cares so much and doesn’t want to see our son upset.
“Daddy,” Damien whispers after a few minutes, “can you read me The Giving Tree?”
“Of course, buddy,” Dominick says, walking over and grabbing the book off the shelf.
He slides onto one side of the bed while I go to the other since it’s big enough for all three of us.
Dominick opens the book and starts to read, and when he gets to the page about the boy going to school, Damien asks, “I go to school?”
Dominick looks down at him with love and warmth in his eyes. “Yeah, we’re going to find you a school.”
“Can I bring my stuffies?” Damien asks.
“You can bring whatever you want,” Dominick says, making me stifle my laugh.
“As long as it’s okay with your new teacher,” I add.
“Okay,” Damien says with a yawn, snuggling into Dominick’s side. “I go to sleep now and go to school tomorrow.”
Dominick continues to read the story, but before he even makes it through a few more pages, Damien is snoring softly.
“You okay?” I ask Dominick when he makes no move to leave Damien’s bed.
“You thought I was going to hurt him,” he says.
I was hoping he hadn’t noticed, but Dominick doesn’t miss a beat.
“I’m sorry. I just—”
“Andrey used to beat us,” he says, changing directions and giving me whiplash. “If Matteo or I cried, he would beat the hell out of us and say that we now had something worth crying about. He told us men didn’t cry and to stop acting like pussies.”
He glances down at Damien and sighs. “When I heard him crying from downstairs, it brought back memories of Andrey beating us. Of my mom begging him to stop and then him hitting her. Eventually, she stopped fighting him, knowing she wouldn’t win, and Matteo and I learned not to cry. I never want my children to feel like they can’t express themselves, and I will never lay a single hand on them or you.”