Earlier, Dale and I were lying on the bed and he began asking me questions about a very old stuffed toy I have.
"Where did Garfield come from?" he asked while he played with it.
"Daddy gave that to me when he was just my boyfriend. When we were teenagers."
What came next was never expected. Dale, my son who was diagnosed as having autism at age 3, began crying.
"That means love, mommy!" I turned around at the sound of his distressed voice.
"Yes. Why are you crying?" I asked him, surprised and concerned at the same time.
"You said Daddy gave you this when you were boyfriends. It means Daddy loves you! Then what happened? Did you love Daddy?" he asked, looking at Garfield intently.
"Yes."
"Oh. So, it's him." he said matter-of-factly as he began wiping away his tears. "Don't worry, Mommy. I will talk to Daddy."
I dare not ask him what he meant by "it's him," I felt so vulnerable, I don't even know how to react to all of it.
"And what will you tell him?" I asked curiously.
"I'll tell him to take you back." and with that, he smiled at me. A smile that will make you believe in the possibility of happy-ever-afters.
If only I can bring myself to smile back.
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