Sparks by Yolanda Olson

“It’sabout time you got home.”

I raise an eyebrow at Luke who’s laying on the living room couch. I’m trying to catch my breath from my sprint and doing my best not to blurt out what just happened, but I’m honestly more disappointed in him for not being in his room where I sent him earlier.

“What are you doing out here?” I snap at him.

Luke chuckles as he swings his long legs off the couch, sits up, and runs a hand back through his hair.

Just like Trenton.

“I got bored in my room and I came out to see if you wanted to watch some T.V. and you were gone. That’s what I’m doing out here.”

I sigh and rub my face tiredly. I don’t want to argue with him now. Hell, I don’t even want to tell him who I just ran into, but it wouldn’t be fair to leave the choice out of his hands.

“You look wrecked, Mom,” he comments with a curious tone. “Want the couch? I can move over to the love seat.”

As he gets to his feet, I shake my head and walk over to take the empty spot next to him. Luke keeps his curious gaze on me because he can tell there’s something I need to say to him and once I’ve told him what I have to say, he’ll either laugh and walk away like he does with normal things, or he’ll go to his room and slam the door.

It’s always one of the two with him. Luke hates serious conversations almost as much as I hate to have them with him, however this is important.

For both of us.

“I went back to the diner,” I begin slowly.

“Mom, I’m not interested in that waitress, so I really hope you didn’t try something stupid,” he says, vehemently shaking his head.

“I ran into your dad,” I blurt out softly.

Luke blinks rapidly a few times before he slowly turns his gaze away from me, and moves further down the couch, trying to put a little more distance between us.

“Honey, he wants to meet you tonight,” I say, moving closer to him.

Luke gets to his feet and scoffs. He walks over to the living room window and pushes the blinds aside, gazing out into the mid-day sun. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but I can feel his anger. It radiates from him like a nuclear shock and in a weird way, I can feel myself becoming angry for him too.

“We don’t have to go. I didn’t agree to it. I told him that I would talk to you and he said he would wait for us to show up. He can rot there for all I care,” I say, getting to my feet and walking over to him. I put my hands on his shoulders and rest my cheek against his bare back and sigh. I won’t force my child to do anything he doesn’t want to do because that’s not the kind of parent I am.

“I wanna go,” he finally says.

“Are you sure, Luke? I’m just fine with us having a night in,” I assure him.

He pulls away from me, then turns to face me. “It’s okay, Mom. I want to meet him at least once.”

There’s something in his eyes that’s telling me I should more than likely send him back to his room, but I can’t deny him this opportunity.

“Alright,” I reply. “He said he would be there at eight, so we can get there before or after—whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

“Guess I should go chill in my room for a while before it’s time to go then,” he says with a distant look in his eye. “Thanks for not hiding this from me. I know you could have, and I wouldn’t have hated you for it, but now I won’t have to wonder anymore.”

* * *

Around seven-thirty Lukecomes out of his room. His hair is neatly combed, he’s wearing a brand-new black t-shirt, and a pair of slacks. He’s got on his best shoes and he even smells slightly of aftershave even though his face shows no signs of having recently being shaved.

He’s trying to impress his father, I think, but in a way so am I. I’m wearing a blue and yellow sundress, beige colored wedge sandals, and have my hair pulled back in a loose French twist.

“Well damn, Mom,” he says with a sly grin and a nod. “You look really pretty.”

“Thanks, baby. You look exceptionally handsome tonight,” I reply, reaching for his now extended arm. I’m just under his chin now with the extra added height and I can tell he’s amused by it.

He reaches into his pocket for a moment then nods. I heard the jingle of his house keys, so I knew he was making sure that we’d have our way back in.

Here goes nothing, I think nervously as we step outside.

We walk in silence all the way to the town center, and Luke’s grip tightens on my arm once the diner begins to come into view. He’s trembling slightly, and I can’t tell if he’s nervous for himself or for me. Nothing seems to ever bother him, but just the prospect of knowing that his father might be waiting for us seems to have stirred something in him.

“I’ll go first,” he offers quietly as he gently pushes me behind him on our way up the walkway. After all of these years, he’s still trying to protect me from possibly getting hurt again.

Once we’re inside, Luke puts a hand on the booth and waits for the hostess to finish her phone call.

“Two tonight?” she asks, barely glancing at us.

“No. We’re here to meet … um,” his voice trails off as he cuts his eyes toward me and I step in without missing a beat.

“Trenton Miller.”

She nods as she looks over the small dry erase board sitting on the pedestal and then checks off a box with a red pen.

“Your party is already here. Follow me.”

We wait patiently while she reaches down for two menus then leads us toward one of the booths in the back of the diner. I can see him nervously sitting in his chair, hands gripping his drink tightly, and glancing at the time on his watch.

Luke stops short of the table and turns around to face me, blocking Trenton’s view as he grips my arms tightly.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Mom? I couldn’t care less, but I have a feeling this is helping you more than it would me,” he says, searching my eyes.

“Oh honey. I’m doing this for you, not me. Trenton doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. I just wanted to give you this chance so you wouldn’t always wonder, you know?” I reply as I reach up and gently lay a hand on the side of his face.

Luke lets out a deep breath and nods. He reaches down and grabs my free hand before turning around and leading me the rest of the way to the booth.

Trenton is on his feet now and the hostess is standing by him, waiting for us to take our seats. The closer we get, the more his eyes widen, never taking them off of his son. When we finally get to him, he extends a hand to Luke who stares at it for a moment before he scoots me into the booth, then sits down.

“Mr. Miller,” he greets him with a nod.

Trenton bites his lower lip nervously before he looks over at me and gives me a forced smile.

“You look nice tonight, Taylee,” he compliments in a kind tone.

“Thanks,” I reply, shooting a nervous glance at Luke. He feels my eyes on him and leans back in his seat, giving me a quick eye roll before turning his attention to the menu.

“What did you have earlier when you were here?” he asks me conversationally.

“Salad,” Trenton and I say together.

Luke glances up at him and chuckles, shaking his head. “Thanks for answering, Mom.”

I lean under the table and give his thigh a firm pinch. It’s my “cut the shit” move when I’m in a position where I’m unable to verbally chastise him.

“Um, what are you thinking of having, um …” Now it’s Trenton’s turn to fail at the name of his own blood, but my son doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“Don’t know yet, Mr. Miller,” he replies pointedly. “Still looking.”

“You don’t have to call me that. You can call me Trenton, if you want.”

Luke rolls his eyes at his menu before he replies.

“Sure thing.”