All I hear is moaning and sharp breathing. All I feel is clawing, touching, and hard clutching. His hands run down my stomach, moving in between my legs. My thighs close around his palm and he fingers me hard. “Walker,” I moan. His cock brushes against the bottom of my wetness. I’m yearning for him so fucking bad. I need him. “Fuck me,” I whisper.

I wake up in a sweat. I feel so flustered and Aidan is yelling, “Mom!” from his room.

I feel my head. It’s hot. Like, really fucking hot. I grab the thermometer from the bathroom and place it in my mouth. “Mom!” he screams. “Mom!!”

“I’m coming!” I yell, mouth full with the thermometer. Finally, it beeps. 103 degrees. God dammit. I can’t afford to be sick right now. I only get eight sick days a year and they don’t roll over.

“Mommy,” he cries, when I open his door. “I’m sick!”

This time, I believe him. I feel his forehead still, and it’s about as hot as I am. I take his temperature next and it’s only at 101, thank God. “Oh, baby,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry mommy didn’t believe you yesterday.” I’m the worst mother in the world. I have to be, right?

“I love you so much, sweetie,” I whisper, running my hands through his hair. There is no way we can do anything today. It’s four A.M. and we definitely have the flu.

“I don’t want to go to school,” he says. He’s shivering, even under the blankets.

“You don’t have to go to school, my love,” I tell him. “Mommy will make you chicken soup and you can watch movies all day.”

“Can I play the PlayStation?” he asks, smiling. Somehow kids can always feel better when they realize they don’t have to go to school for a day. I remember how that used to feel.

“You can play the PlayStation,” I laugh. “But you still have to do your homework.”

“Oh,” he groans. He coughs and looks at me with big, sad eyes.

“Fine,” I give in, as mothers sometimes have to. “You can do it tomorrow. But don’t get it into your head that you can stay on that thing all week.” His homework today consists of drawing one relevant political cartoon, as well as one math sheet. Still, it’s enough to drag a kid down.

“I love you, mom,” he says, hugging me. I give him one Tylenol and tell him to drink all of the water that I have. His fever should clear in a day or two.

“I love you too, baby,” I kiss his forehead and tuck him back in. “Just sleep for a little while, okay?”

“Okay,” he smiles. He’s so damn cute with those freckles on his nose. They’re the same freckles I have. He has the same eyes as his father and the same exact hair type. That bastard, Walker. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive him. I tiptoe to the doorway, so I can get myself some care, because right now I’m dying.

“Mom?” he suddenly asks.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Where’s Dad?” he asks me. His eyes dart to the floor, as if he’s asked something bad. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Aidan! Don’t be sorry,” I say. I walk back over to the bed and try to come up with something to make him feel better. I decide that the truth is better than a lie. Someday he’ll figure out what happened on his own and he’ll resent me. I don’t want that to happen. “Sometimes mommies and daddies decide to make a baby. But sometimes, they can’t stay together.”

“They do if they love the family,” he sighs.

“No, Aidan. He does love you. He…” fuck this is hard. I’m on the verge of tears, trying to explain why his dad is a complete asshole. I can’t just tell him that he came inside me and left me for good, can I? Fuck this. Fuck everything. “His mommy was sick. He had to go back to London. I miss him too, sweetie.”

“We have each other though?” he asks. “Forever?”

“Oh, baby. We’ll always have each other. We’re family. You’ll always be my baby boy,” I say. “Always.”

“Sweet dreams, Mom,” he says, closing his eyes.

“Sweet dreams.” I walk out of the room and get myself some Tylenol. I take two and head back to bed, but I can’t fathom going to sleep right now, even if it is early in the morning. I text my boss Jake and tell him that I have the flu. I apologize profusely and then walk out into the kitchen. He’ll be okay with it. He loves me over there. I just don’t enjoy feeling like he has some sort of leverage on me.

Sometimes life gets easier for me. Sometimes it just floats on by. Lately, it feels like everything has been speeding up. Renata met someone so she’s hardly ever around. I don’t have any other friends anymore, besides her. Darrin took them all away. Of course, he’s having a baby in June with his new Asian bride. I hate to be a downer, but everything is just shit. Everything, except Aidan.

But I wish he had a father to help take care of him. I wish he had someone who could take him to the park when I couldn’t. Someone who could toss a football around with him, or play with his action figures. Shit, I wish there could be someone who could compete with him on that stupid PlayStation that I hate. The whole thing just isn’t fair.

I know that Walker wasn’t the one. I shouldn’t have gone through with my fantasy. This is what I get, right? But I can’t help but think about him at night, even six years later. I see him in Aidan. I’m doomed to always be around him, and yet never be close enough to actually talk to him. All I want is to ask him, “Why didn’t you call me? Why’d you lie? You never came back for me.” I feel so desperate even saying this. I need help.