house lights

BC's ex takes the time to send me flight information via e-mail for the kid's flight to her on Thursday night but she doesn't send me the same for his return today.  

I don't know why it is that way.

But I'm not in the dark. Fisher calls me twice to give his landing time in SLC. I can see him looking down holding the phone loosely to his face and kicking at something innocuous nearby with his foot. 

The first call most likely was made from his mom's house. The second he seemed to be somewhere else, perhaps the little Hailey airport sitting alone- thinking.  He tells me the weekend was a disaster. I tell him I'm sorry and I leave it at that. 

I remind him his dad is coming home today too.  A one night stop over on a materials run then back to Moab first thing Monday morning. 

While we talk I pull 2 chicken breasts out of the freezer. I will make us all a chicken dinner; 1/2 breast each, mashed potatoes, and roasted green beans. The thought of it feels the same as when I order fake food from Beach's fake cafe situated behind the sofa. 

Just as awkward & strange, and yet just as satisfying. 

I let Fish choose if he wants a curbside pick up or if he wants to try taking the train to the Ball Park Station, which will also include a curbside pick up but we ignore that detail to preserve the illusion that taking the train would be a totally independent act. 

After all, he is 16. These things matter a great deal. 

He picks the train. And I say, "sure" like it is nothing but I can't help saying more than a few times, "If you change your mind when you land and want me to come get you at the airport just call..." because he sounds homesick and it makes me homesick.  

And I don't want to ride the train today...

He hangs up and I make coffee so I have something warm to hold.

I place the phone somewhere where I will find easily.

I wait for him to call.

He waits to come home.