And then I waited.
Garrett called me back three days later.
I was at the office reviewing a bid for a new hospital renovation project when his name popped up on my screen.
I stared at it for two rings before answering.
“Well?” I said.
“She said she’s sorry you feel that way.”
I actually laughed out loud in my office with the door open.
Sullivan poked his head in and gave me a look, and I waved him off.
“Garrett,” I said, “that’s not an apology. That’s a deflection wrapped in a sympathy card.”
“I know what it is, Ethan. I’m just the messenger.”
“Then go back and tell her the message didn’t land.”
He groaned.
“Come on, man. It’s Thanksgiving. Miles can see his cousins. You and Mom can hash it out after dinner. Just show up, eat some turkey, and we’ll figure out the rest later.”
“No,” I said.
“And here’s why. Every single time something like this happens, the plan is always the same. Show up, pretend it’s fine, hash it out later. And you know what later means? Never. Later means we all eat pie and someone changes the subject and 3 weeks go by and suddenly it’s Christmas and nobody ever mentions it again. I’m done with later, Garrett. I want now.”
There was a long pause.
Then he said, “So what do you want me to tell her?”
“Tell her that if she wants her grandson in her life, she needs to call me directly. Not through you. Not through Aunt Linda. Not through Drew. She picks up the phone. She calls me, and she tells me she’s sorry for what she said about Miles. Not sorry I feel that way. Not sorry things got out of hand. Sorry for what she said. That’s it. That’s the bar. It’s not even a high bar, Garrett. It’s on the ground.”
He said he’d pass it along.
I didn’t hold my breath.
Thanksgiving came and went.
Jenna and I hosted our own.
Just the three of us, plus Jenna’s parents from Chattanooga.
Jenna’s dad, Roger, spent the afternoon teaching Miles how to whittle a wooden bird.
Miles was in heaven.
At dinner, Roger raised his glass and said to Miles, “The best bug scientist, origami artist, stargazer I know.”
Miles grinned so wide I thought his face would split.
And I looked at Jenna, and she looked at me, and we both knew we’d made the right call.
My mother had Thanksgiving at her house with Garrett’s family and Drew.
Garrett told me later she spent most of the evening talking about how Ethan chose to be absent and how Jenna has so much influence over him.
She never once mentioned Miles.
Not once.
Even in her guilt, she still couldn’t center the person she’d actually hurt.
December came, and with it the annual question of Christmas.
My mother always hosted Christmas Eve.
It was her thing.
The whole family at her house, matching pajamas, a reading of the Christmas story, the works.
I hadn’t gone to one in my life that I could remember missing.
But this year, I already knew the answer.
Unless something changed, we weren’t going.
Then something did change.
Just not the way I expected.
It was a Wednesday evening about 2 weeks before Christmas.
I was helping Miles with his homework at the kitchen table when my phone rang.
The caller ID said, “Mom.”
I stared at it.
Jenna was in the next room and looked at me through the doorway.
I held up the phone so she could see the screen.
She raised her eyebrows and gave me a small nod.
I answered.
“Hello?”
“Ethan.”
Her voice was tight, controlled, the way it gets when she’s been rehearsing.
Chapter 8: A hollow apology
“I’ve been thinking about things, and I want you to know that I’m sorry if what I said at the party caused any confusion.”
Confusion.
She said confusion.
Like my son’s heartbreak was a scheduling mix-up.
“Mom,” I said, “what exactly are you sorry for?”
“I just said I’m sorry.”
“You said you’re sorry if what you said caused confusion. I need you to tell me what you said and why it was wrong.”
There was a silence so thick you could have spread it on toast.
Then she said, “I don’t remember the exact words, Ethan. It was months ago. People say things in conversation. I was talking to Garrett privately, and you took it out of context.”
“Miles was standing right behind you, Mom. He heard you say his birthday party was a waste and that he’s not even that special. Those are the exact words. There’s no context that makes those words okay when your grandson is standing 5 ft away.”