Page 46 of Defensive Indifference

“I saw my mom kiss you at the game,” he admits.

“Oh.” I lower my gaze to gather my thoughts. I haven’t even spoken to her about it, not more than teasing, so it’s difficult to explain it to Dustin.

“Do you like my mom? I mean, not like a friend.” His stance is still stiff, and I know whatever comes from this conversation will make or break his confidence, not only in baseball, but in men altogether.

“I do,” I admit.

“I’m pretty sure she like you, too, but she’s probably scared. I think that’s why she went on a date with that bad guy.”

“Do you?”

“Maybe. I mean, I’m a kid so I’m not sure, but I know she wasn’t excited to go on the date. Not like she is when we’re coming to spend time with you. She smiles a lot when you’re around.” Dustin lowers his gaze, finally unable to keep eye contact with me. “She doesn’t smile like that much.”

“What do you mean?”

He frowns, shuffles around a bit, and finally gives in. “She smiles a lot, but it’s not like that. She’s trying to make me think everything is okay, and I know it isn’t. If you married my mom, she’d be happy. Like really happy, and not just pretend to make me happy.”

“Dustin, I—”

“If you like her, why can’t you just marry her?” Desperation drips from his tone, like the kid is clinging to his last hope for something good, something happy, a family he can put his trust in.

“It isn’t that easy.”

“Why not?”

“You can’t just meet someone, decide you like them, and get married. That’s not how it works, Dustin. You have to build a relationship, get to know—”

“What about arranged marriages?”

What? Who on earth has been explaining life to this child? I try not to chuckle, but the idea of arranged marriage is clearly outside of his scope of understanding.

His frown deepens.

“Mom watches a lot of movies about books like Pride and Prejudice or something like that. They’re always setting people up for getting married in a week. Why can’t you do that if you like each other?”

Oh man, how do I even begin to explain this to a child? One who isn’t mine? I have no right to give him the basics of life and love and marriage, but he’s standing here in front of me, practically begging me to marry his mother. On the surface, one might think it’s kind of cute, but there’s a storm raging in this boy’s eyes that speaks to much more.

“Come here, Dustin. Sit beside me.” He shuffles to sit on the bench seat beside me, defeated as he can be. That won’t do after hitting a grand slam, but there is no way I can promise him that his mother and I will marry. Less than a month ago, the woman pelted me with hot donuts and likely would have been happy to see me walk into traffic.

“I really need you to know how much I care about you. I think you are the greatest kid around, and I’m so proud of you. You did an amazing thing today, and you should be focused on that. I’m pretty sure your mother would agree that things between adults should stay between adults.”

Defeat darkens his mood further.

“But,” I add, “I can promise you that I will respect and support your mom as much as she’ll let me. I do care for her, too, but I can’t make promises. She has a heart and a mind of her own, and there is no way I can force her to love me, kiddo.”

“Do you love her?” he presses.

I chuckle. “Don’t take this the wrong way, kid, but that isn’t something for us to discuss right now. Your mom and I have some talking to do, but anything between us is something for her to talk to you about, not me, okay?”

“I guess so.” His mumble says he most certainly does not.

“All right. Let’s go to this party and celebrate that grand slam because I want some donuts.”

Dustin plasters on a smile, one I am sure he learned from his mother because it’s fake as can be, and shuffles out the door a little wiser about all things love, whether he likes what he learned or not.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Evalina