Allen had no idea where Leon had gone; his calls went unanswered. In his anxiety, he even considered calling the police. I quickly stopped him and sent a text message to Leon: You forgot your backpack.
The backpack was old but well-loved, one Leon always carried. He guarded it jealously, as if afraid we’d touch it, taking it everywhere. It probably held some secret. In his haste, he’d left it on the sofa at his uncle’s house. I’d seen it before we left and told Allen to bring it.
Sure enough, within ten minutes, a reply came: Don’t touch my backpack!
I replied: If you’re worried about someone touching it, come get it. Then I sent the address of a nearby restaurant, telling him to come there.
After sending the message, I told Allen to go wait for him: “You go. Have a good talk, just the two of you. You haven’t eaten, so that place is perfect. Let him order whatever he likes.”
Allen was touched: “Cathy, thank you so much. You’ve been wronged today.”
I shook my head: “It’s nothing. I’m not the one living with them. You’re good, that’s what matters. Just don’t blame me if I can’t be close to them.”
Allen nodded: “Actually, my mom didn’t like Samantha much initially either, thought she was too controlling. I don’t know what’s gotten into her this time.”
Probably because she sees me as being on Susan’s side and wanted to put me in my place. I didn’t spell it out, just reassured Allen a bit and went home.
When Leon arrived at the restaurant, Allen was waiting at the entrance. It was autumn, the weather turning cool, and with the draft at the door, Allen’s face was slightly pale from the cold. Leon, who had arrived full of resentment, felt a pang of guilt seeing his father like that. He shuffled over to Allen: “Dad, sorry for worrying you.”
Actually, Allen felt more guilty. He led Leon inside, and they talked over a meal. Allen ordered many dishes, all seemingly Leon’s favorites, but Leon didn’t have much appetite. After Leon finished a serving, Allen asked him, “Leon, do you blame Dad?”
Leon shook his head: “Mom filed for divorce. I don’t blame you.” Over their thirteen years of marriage, Samantha had threatened divorce many times. Whenever arguments escalated, she’d use divorce as leverage. For Leon’s sake, Allen always compromised and begged for peace. Only the last time, he agreed. It was his first act of defiance in years. Samantha probably hadn’t expected him to agree, but being used to getting her way, she didn’t back down. They went to court the next day. She held her head high, waiting for Allen to come crawling back, but after a month with no apology, and too proud to make the first move, the divorce became final.
Allen, looking at Leon’s thinner frame, felt a lump in his throat: “Actually, the night I went on the blind date with your Aunt Cathy, your mother called. I was hesitant, but that call made me decide immediately to pursue your Aunt Cathy. I just couldn’t live that kind of life with your mother anymore.”
On the day he met Jiang Lianyue (Cathy), despite liking her, he was afraid she’d want a divorce after three years. He craved stability; frequent divorces wouldn’t be good for his son either. But that night, Samantha called, asking if he regretted it yet, demanding he apologize on his knees before she’d consider taking him back. Allen clutched the phone, trembling—both with anger at Samantha’s arrogance and selfishness, and with fear that he might eventually cave again. So he hung up on Samantha and immediately contacted Cathy. Anyone but Samantha, he thought.
After listening to Allen’s account, Leon asked, “Do you regret marrying that woman?”
Allen smiled: “No. Cathy is a wonderful person, completely different from your mother. Look, we haven’t had a single fight in all these months. She hasn’t even fought with you. It’s been so peaceful at home.”
Leon thought back; it seemed every time he was the one making a fuss, while that woman remained unruffled. He sighed: “Alright then. As long as you’re happy.”
The two talked for a long time that day. It was well after I’d finished dinner when they got back. Leon’s eyes were red-rimmed. Seeing me, he said, “Aunt Cathy.”
I smiled and nodded, accepting his gesture of reconciliation. Afterwards, Leon retreated to his room. Allen mysteriously pulled me into our room: “Cathy, you know why Leon treasures that backpack so much? The kid’s in love! It’s full of love letters from a girl!”
Well, that was surprising. No wonder Allen was so excited. “He told you himself?”
Allen nodded: “Yes! He improved his grades this semester because he promised the girl he’d study hard!”
I smiled: “That’s a good thing. Make sure you talk to him more about what’s appropriate and what’s not, guide him.”
Allen said, relieved: “I definitely need to talk to him more. Boys this age have such complicated thoughts. Can’t let my guard down for a second.”
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