Mom took the morning off to drive me down to the dock. We ate breakfast in a Denny’s off the 110 in San Pedro. The boat would meet us in the LA Harbor. I toyed with my pancakes and OJ. Mom was absorbed in her cottage cheese and eggs. I was desperately hoping we could get this over without having the conversation I knew was waiting. Maybe by the time I got back from Dad’s, I’d have a good excuse.
“Jim…” she began and I looked up at her.
“Yeah?” I said – might as well let her know that I’m not scared. She didn’t say anything for a few minutes. “What?” I asked. She shook her head and took a sip of coffee. The silence lengthened into minutes. I didn’t need to ask what she was going to say – we both knew what had happened.
I’m referring to the ‘last straw’, of course. Mom had held out on having me stay with Dad for at least two years. The problem was, a single mom in LA had a battle on several fronts as the nice house she worked to provide was the same reason she couldn’t be there to be my mom. I’m not saying she was a bad mom – it’s a bad situation; it is what it is.
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