Sparks by Yolanda Olson

When I finally find thestrength to leave my room again, I’m pleasantly surprised to find that Luke has already made dinner. He’s sitting in the living room with the television off, quietly eating his barbecue chicken wings and potato wedges.

As soon as he feels me watching him from the doorway, he reaches for his napkin to clean his mouth, before glancing up at me with a smile.

“I thought you might be hungry, so I made us something simple.”

“Thank you,” I say to him softly. His smile spreads across his face and I can almost swear I saw him proudly puff his chest out. The smallest amount of praise and Luke feels like he’s done a world of good. He’s an amazing boy and I let him feel like the wonderful young man that he is because he’s worthy of the praise.

He deserves so much more than I can give him, but he seems content to stay inside of these walls with me instead of going out to make any friends.

I fix myself a plate, grab a fork and a couple of napkins before I head back to the living room.

“Mind if I join you?” I ask Luke who nods without glancing in my direction. While I know that I don’t have to ask his permission to do anything in my own home, I like to treat him as an equal.

“It looks nice outside today,” I begin conversationally once I’ve sat down, “wanna go for a walk later?”

“Nah.”

“Honey, you have to learn to take walks every now and then. Go outside, breathe in the fresh air, maybe make some friends?”

He scoffs, “The only friend I need is sitting right across from me. If I want fresh air, I can open a window, and there’s no point in walking anywhere when it all leads back to the same place.”

“And what place is that?” I ask, stabbing a potato wedge with my fork.

“Home.”

I manage a tight smile, not that he’s even looking at me, before I pop the potato wedge into my mouth and begin to chew thoughtfully. There has to be a way to get him out of this house—I don’t want him to turn into a hermit.

“What if I go with you? I can afford to stretch my legs a little bit,” I offer brightly.

Luke slowly raises his eyes from his plate and stares deep into mine. The look he gives me tells me he thinks it’s a trick of some kind, but I’m fresh out of tricks to get him outside of these doors.

“I’m serious,” I reply with a light laugh. “We can go outside and see what the world looks like. Just once, I promise that if you don’t like it, I won’t make you do it again.”

He tears his eyes away from me and cranes his neck to look out of the living room window before he finally sighs and drops his eyes back to his plate again.

“Okay. But only if you go with me.”

“Then it’s settled! Once we’ve finished dinner, I’ll go freshen up and we can go for a little nighttime stroll.”

He nods as he begins to pick at his chicken with his fork and I can’t help but wonder what’s going on inside of his head. Luke seems to be really preoccupied these days, but he’s fiercely private and doesn’t share much with me—no matter how hard I try to get him to tell me things.

We finish our dinner in silence, with a few stolen glances and small smiles at each other. I don’t mind the silence for the most part, it was something I had become used to in the convent, but since no longer being a part of the Church, I long for conversation and noise—something my son isn’t fond of.

It makes me wonder if that’s something he got from his father, because I know in my soul that those traits haven’t come from me.

Once we’re both done and have sat around for a few moments, Luke picks up his plate as well as mine, and disappears into the kitchen. When I hear the sink turn on, I sigh and walk back toward my room to find something comfortable to wear. If this is the one time I can get him outside of these doors, then I’m going to make him walk for as long and as far as I can.

I settle on a pair of loose, black sweatpants, a crimson colored tank top, and a brand-new pair of running sneakers that I’ve kept at the bottom of my closet. I saved them specifically for this occasion and I hope my feet don’t blister too soon into our walk.

I walk over to my vanity and find a hair tie, then loop my long, blonde hair back into a loose ponytail and give myself a glance in the mirror before I turn off the light and walk out.

“Are you ready, honey?” I call out as I walk down the hall.

“Yeah,” comes the glum reply. I find my son standing at the other end of the hallway by the front door, arms crossed over his chest, and an unhappy look on his face. “Let’s get this over with,” he says, pulling the door open and stepping aside to let me through.

It’s a lovely, brisk night in Sandpoint and I almost immediately regret wearing a tank top, but I know that if I go inside to change, Luke will say that we went outside and that our trip is over, so I bite my lower lip as I loop an arm through his and begin to lead him away from our home.

“Do you wanna go to the Byway?” I ask him cheerfully. “I’m sure if we hang out there long enough we might be able to see the Northern Lights.”

He shrugs but doesn’t veto my idea. Unfortunately, because I don’t want to push him too hard right now, I drop the subject and continue to walk with him in silence.

After about twenty minutes we’ve reached the town center and I walk over to one of the welcome center maps to see where we can go next.

“Can I ask you something?”

I jump. His presence, while strong, is often forgettable due to his overwhelming need for silence.

I giggle nervously as I try to hide the fact that I forgot my own son was with me, and nod at him.

“What’s a good age to have kids?”

“What?” I ask him in confusion. Luke is only fifteen years old, so that’s not something I would expect him to be wondering so soon in his life.

“Well, how old were you when you had me?” he asks, shifting on his feet.

“I was about twenty,” I reply, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

He shoves his hands into his jean pockets and glances away from me. “And how old was he?”

I wrinkle my nose in confusion. I don’t understand what kind of information he’s looking for and he’s damn good when it comes to beating around the bush—too good for my liking sometimes.

“He, who?” I ask, raising an eyebrow curiously.

“My dad.”

“Oh. Um, thirty-five, I think.”

He nods and takes a deep breath before he walks over to me and stares at the map.

“Where to now, Magellan?” he asks, a small smile on his face.

“Wherever we want to go. See anything that looks good?” I reply, resting my head on his shoulder. Luke is a tall boy, much like his father, and he dwarfed me when he turned about twelve. Puberty shot him up the rest of the way and it astounds me that he’s not done growing just yet.

He puts an arm around me as he leans closer to the map and runs a finger down the list of places closest to where we’re standing.

“Nah. This all looks kind of boring. We can go to the beach, though. The sun is almost gone so there shouldn’t be too many people there.”

“Sounds good to me,” I reply softly, as I pull away from him and we loop our arms together again. Luke seems to be slightly less apprehensive about being outside, and I’ll let him lead me anywhere he wants to go right now if it’ll make him happy.

I just want my boy to know that he’s loved—I want him to feel it as much as he feels the obvious desolation of only having one parent and not knowing much about the other. This isn’t the first time he’s asked me about his father, and while his question took me off guard, I have a feeling it holds some kind of personal relevance to him.

Maybe one day, he’ll tell me what it is.