My Son Asked If He Could Save a Seat for ‘The Man Who Always Brings Mommy Flowers’ at Thanksgiving

“Sweetie, what are you talking about?”

Leo shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “C’mon, Mom!” he said. “You know who he is.

The man with the flowers… I saw him last time when he was standing on the doorstep with the roses. I wanted to come and see the flowers, but you told me to go to my room and not bother you. Don’t you remember?”

What’s going on?

I thought. What’s Leo talking about? At that point, Megan’s reaction wasn’t helping.

“That’s… that’s not true, Leo,” Megan stammered. She was trying to sound lighthearted, but her voice wavered. “You must be imagining things, sweetie.

I don’t remember that.”

“I’m not!” Leo insisted, crossing his arms like he does when he’s certain he’s right. “He brought pink roses last time. You said they were your favorite!”

I couldn’t ignore the pit forming in my stomach.

I trusted Megan, but her reaction was sowing seeds of doubt in my mind. During the seven years of our marriage, I had never once doubted her loyalty for a second. But now?

All those countless shared laughs, tears, and late-night talks looked like an act to me. Was Megan really involved with someone else? That night, after we put Leo to bed, I couldn’t let it go.

Megan had been distant all evening, barely looking me in the eye. “Megan,” I said as we sat on the couch. “What’s going on?

Is there something I should know?”

“No, uh,” she signed. “It’s nothing, Tom. I don’t know where Leo is getting this from.

You know how kids can be. Th-they make things up.”

But Leo didn’t usually make things up, especially not with this kind of detail. I was certain my wife was hiding something.

“Come on, Megan,” I pressed. “He seemed so certain. He said you sent him to his room while this guy was here.

Does that not sound a little strange to you?”

“Tom, I don’t know what to tell you,” she said in a defensive tone. “Maybe he misunderstood something he saw on TV or—”

“Or maybe he didn’t,” I interrupted, unable to mask my frustration. “If this is nothing, why do you look so… freaked out?”

“I’m not freaked out,” she snapped, though her flushed cheeks and fidgeting hands said otherwise.

“I just don’t like the implication that I’m hiding something from you.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything. I just… I need to know what’s going on, Megan. If there’s something you’re not telling me, now’s the time.”

She didn’t respond.

She just stared at the floor for a few seconds. “It’s nothing, Tom,” she said after a long pause. “Let’s just drop it, okay?”

Drop it?

Sure. I could drop it. But the pit in my stomach wasn’t goingContinue reading…