Am I Too Late?
Trenton and I never made it to dinner. Instead, we spent four hours talking about Trey. Then I left him there and went home to tell my mom what happened, and we started making plans.
Now, a week later, I have taken time off from work, boarded a plane with my mom, and we are heading back to the one place I thought I would never see again: Firm Hands Ranch.
Trenton offered for us to stay at the house, but that’s one place I don’t want to be. The last time I left that house was the day I went into labor. When I was released, we were already packed and on our way to Georgia.
Trenton understands, but he wants me to have as much time as I want with Trey. However, I have to be the adult here and remember that my son may not want to see me. He needs that freedom to escape and take it all in.
How much do I share with him of why I haven’t been around? What has he been told? What has he made up in his head? Knowing teenage angst, how will he react to all of this?
Trying to put myself in his shoes, my mind fills with more insecurities and apprehension. Can he comprehend that I tried to fight for him yet couldn’t win? How can I make him see and believe that not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of him?
All tangled in thoughts, emotions, and getting situated in our room, time passes faster than I realize. Soon, I’m dressed and heading out to dinner with my mom to meet my son.
Meet. My. Son.
Those words carry so much weight, so much meaning. I didn’t know if I would ever see this day. At eighteen, he could have denied seeing me, and it would have all been over before it ever began. I never had the guarantee of seeing him, only the forced restriction of not contacting him until he was an adult.
We arrive at the restaurant where Trenton has reservations in a private room for us. Walking in, my heart practically leaps out of my chest as I look over at the table and see my son.
I can’t stop the gasp that escapes my lips when I see how much he looks like me. His tanned skin, dark hair, and eyes are the mirror image of my own.
When he smiles up at me as he rises from his chair, I feel the warmth of the tears falling down my face. Then my son wraps his arms around me, practically picking me up as he hugs me. He may only be fourteen, but he’s already taller than me by quite a bit. Trenton, being six-feet, must have passed his height on to Trey.
I wrap my arms around him and pull him to me, and he clutches me like I’m his lifeline. In that moment, I know I am, as he is mine. The bond of a mother to her child is one that can’t be explained until you become one.
“Mom,” I hear him whisper in my ear, the word I have waited so long to hear. It is pure heaven leaving his lips.
“Mi hijo.” I squeeze him a little tighter. “My son. This means everything.”
We stand there, holding each other for I don’t know how long before Trenton clears his throat, bringing me back to the moment.
I gently pull away, and Trey takes my hand in his, leading me to the seat beside him. The smile on his face is even bigger when I don’t let go of his hand as we sit down.
“Trey, this is my mother, Juanita,” I say in quick introduction.
Without releasing my hand, Trey stands and hugs her with his free arm before she sits down across from him.
“Juanita, I’m glad you could make it with Sophia,” Trenton says, smiling at our son.
Our waitress comes, takes our orders, and thankfully, leaves the room again. I want nothing more than to bombard my son with questions, but I collect my thoughts. It’s best to tackle this all head-on.
“Do you have questions for me?” I ask Trey, forcing myself to make eye contact.
Amusement, innocence, love, forgiveness, and understanding all stare back at me in the reflection of my own eyes in my baby.
“I know the truth, Mom, if that’s what you want to talk about. Dad told me what Pops did. I know you wanted to be with me.”
At his words, my gaze moves to make eye contact with Trenton as my heart constricts from taking in my son’s words. This is a revelation to know that Trenton made sure Trey knew the truth.
I mouth a silent, “Thank you,” to Trenton while Trey continues smiling at me and opening himself to me.
“It’s okay, Mom. We are together now and have all the time in the world to get to know each other and have you around. Dad says he’s not going to let my grandfather control everything anymore. Things are going to change, Mom, and it begins now with you and me.”
“Yes, baby, it does.” As I smile at my son, true happiness fills my entire mind, body, and soul, just from being in his presence.
We spend the next two hours eating, getting to know one another, and simply enjoying this moment.
My son enjoys art. He’s actually sold a few charcoals online. He also plays football and already has college scouts watching him, and he’s only a freshman in high school. Trenton really has not only done a good job of raising our son, but he’s also made sure he knew about me and my mother.
His favorite meal is enchilada casserole, made with my mom’s recipe that she apparently shared with Trenton years ago. Trenton also made sure Trey is bilingual, fluent in Spanish. My heart swells when he tells me that, when he was younger, he would play the recordable book I left behind, over and over. That was the very first thing Trenton and I bought when we found out I was pregnant. That and a baby blanket.
When I found out I would not be able to keep my baby, I recorded myself reading the book that was written in English, although I read it in Spanish. All these years, I never thought about whether the book was given to my son or not. I guess I assumed it would be gone, just as I was. To know that Trey heard my voice daily during those early years brings comfort to a part of me that’s so broken.
The next four days pass in a blur. My mother and I spend every waking moment with Trey. We even go to a football game at his high school and cheer on my linebacker. It’s a bittersweet moment as I think on the many games I missed throughout the years, but I force myself back into the moment and cherish what I have in the here and now.