my sons been taking the school bus for over a year now. me and his step mother both work full time and i usually get home 5 minutes before he does. Lucille (his sm), arrives at about 6. of course there’s the odd traffic jam every once and a while which usually leaves my son having to use the spare key, we’ve been having a lot of those days recently. yesterday somebody spilt water on the power supply or something at work and we all go to come home early, i work with computers so with no power there’s no point being there really. so i did some grocery shopping and came home about 10 minutes before his school bell rang, i thought about picking him up but i would’ve gotten there a lot later then the school bus so i just got started on dinner prep. i was well into cutting potatoes when i heard vroom of a car and the familiar voice of my son. it was my surprise when i saw him get out of a black suv. i suspiciously ran to my door to greet the driver and ask what the hell they were doing picking up my son without my permission. i opened the door and started yelling but they drove off before i could see their face. my son turned to me “dad!” “buddy who was that” i asked frantically “no one” my son broke my gaze and made an angry pout before running upstairs. i chased after him but he locked the door. eventually i persuaded him to get out with the help of a cookie.
“who’s car was that” charlie made suspicious glances around the room before whispering “they wouldn’t want me to tell you” “kid i’m your dad, i need to know these things. i’ll be fine if it’s one of you’re friends parents but you’ve gotta tell me” “no.” i sighed heavily. “you know that cookie you’re eating? i can make that two.” charlie’s eyes lit up “it’s mom” i stared at him in shock with both fear and anger. “who, Lucille?” “no, my real mom” those words pierced through me like a frozen blade sending shivers through my spine. charlie had always known Lucille was not his real mom but he was a smart kid and knew it was a touchy subject for me. a part of me believes that he’s truly ok with it. Lucille went to every mother’s day breakfast, her parents were nana and pop, the whole ordeal. i promised my self if he ever asked id talk about it with him but i just didn’t feel comfortable with telling an 8 year old that his mother had been dead since he was 6 months old. “charlie whoever that is, they are not your mom.” i said with a stern tone “no they are! really! they look just like me!” it’s true charlie had always resembled his mom. “charlie this is a very dangerous situation, whoever is picking you up is not who you think they are. stay right where you are.” charlie grunted “she knew this would happen” he mumbled. it felt like with every word he said i was more and more shaken up. i phoned the police, texted Lucille and promised him i would pick him up tomorrow.
so there i was waiting discretely in my car. we’d came up with a plan to catch this fraud in action. i waited nervously, anticipation eating me from the inside out. i jumped when his school bell rang. he soon came running out scanning the perimeter of the playground for that same black suv. i could see the look on his face when he found out. this was my cue. i jumped out of my car and scattered to get beside him. but the car drove away just in time. but through the silhouette of the car window, I could see her black curly hair, and sunglasses in the rearview mirror, flashbacks of her bruised arms and legs, and the heart monitor flatlining came back to me. I was in so much shock. I didn’t say anything on the way home. I just stared at the road, thinking that my son wasn’t lying. This woman was his real mom. But how? that was impossible? this source stayed with me well until the night what I heard a vroom outside. Lucille had come home. This voom sounded like one from an SUV. I made my way outside thinking of all the questions I was about to ask this person, but standing in front of the car, was my wife, in a white pantsuit, the same one she crashed the car in, Looking youthful as ever. “ come, Marcus, we have a lot to talk about.”