October• 2018 | 59READER’S DIGEST
FILLING HER SHOESBY BETSY GRAZIANI FASBINDER, © 2017 BY BETSY FASBINDERwhen old habits resumed and Betsy
wasonceagainmyonlytitle.WEEKS LATER,as I drove him
homefromschool,Maxpulleda
bag of Cheezels from hisTe e n a g e
Mutant Ninja Turtleslunchbox.He
munched away, licking the orange
dustof eachinger.
With his focus deep inside the
near-emptysnackbag,hesuddenly
said,“InoticeIdon’tcallyouMum.”
Wham!Who threw that rock at my
chest? “I noticed that, too.”
OnelastCheezel.“WhenIsay
Betsy, I mean Mum.”
“Thanks,” I said. “That’s nice to
know.”
He looked out the window. “Mums
die,youknow.Ithinkit’smaybesafer
if you’re just Betsy.”
We cou ld have a long ta lk about
magical thinking and death and
hownothinghecouldsay,ornot
say, could cause me to die or could
havecausedhismothertodie.But
thisjustdidn’tseemlikethetimefor
all of that.
Iwilledtearsaway,notwanting
to overwhelm him. He had enough to
c a r r y. “T ha n k s, budd y. I apprec iate
you telling me.”
Those big chocolate eyes found
mine.Iwaited.
“Hey, Betsy?”
“Yeah,”Isaid,delightedwiththe
newsoundofmyoldname.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked.“I’msorrythatyourirstmumdied.
Ilikedher.”
“WhatshouldIcallyou?”heasked.
My heart pounded, and my stomach
turned. Mama, I wanted to cry. I’ll be
your mama and you’ll be my son. I
resisted. “You can call me Mum or
Mama. You can also call me Betsy,
if you’d rather. Whatever feels OK
for you.”
He stood there a minute and I
waited, expecting a pronouncement
of my new title.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked,
pickinguphisball.
“Burgers.”
“Sweet,” he said, tossing the ball as
he walked out the room.
TOMANDIWEREMARRIEDafew
months later. For a couple of days
afterwards,Maxtriedoutanew
titleforme.“Canwegobowling?”
he’d ask, and then follow the ques-
tion by mouthing the wordMum.
Or,“Canwegototheshops?”And
the mouthed wordMum.Mumwas
always silent. It seemed he was trying
iton,seeinghowitfeltinhismouth.
“Whatcha doin’,Mum?” “Can I watch
TV now,Mum?”
Itfeltwrongtotakesuchpleasure
inseeinghislittleplumlipsform
that singular syllable. After all, this
new son of mine was an inheritance
IwouldnothaveifheandTom
hadn’tsustainedsuchanenormous
loss. I felt small... and smaller still