They pick out one of those plastic shell sandpits. She waves a hand in the air, indicating to all the different colors. He points to her, then her eyes, and then he chooses green.
After checking out, they lead the way, hand in hand, to my truck, where I dump the sandpit and all the accessories (buckets, shovels, you name it) in the back. It costs a lot more than the money he’d earned over the last month but who am I to say no? Especially when getting the extra stuff meant spending more time with Becca. And him, of course.
When everything’s strapped in, I turn around and see them having another one of their silent conversations. Tommy rubs his belly, and then points to her. She purses her lips and looks up to the skies, then rubs her own belly. He gives her a thumbs up and she returns it. Then they both look at me, a question in their eyes. And I stand there silent and unmoving because, seriously? What the hell just happened? Tommy crosses his arms. Becca quirks an eyebrow.
I nod.
They celebrate.
I sigh. “Okay, I’m going to be honest. I have no idea what you guys just said, or asked, or whatever.”
Tommy sighs louder than I just did and throws in an eye roll. Sometimes I truly question how old the kid is.
Becca bends at her waist so she’s eye level with him, then holds up three fingers.
He nods and looks up at me. “Me and Becca are hungry. Can we eat?”
“That’s what that was?”
Becca snorts with laughter. Legit, snorts. And no lie—it’s kind of hot.
I take them to Tommy’s favorite place—Chuck E Cheese, where we scoff down our meals and I double-dog-dare Becca to have another fried pickle, which she refuses. We spend the rest of the afternoon playing games and going from one ride to the next. Normally, I’d find an excuse to cut out after an hour or so but honestly, it’s not so bad with Becca around. It’s actually kind of fun. The two of them still live and play in their own worlds, but occasionally, they’ll try to get me involved in it. It’s a whole lot of pointing and nodding and head shaking and holding up one or two fingers—whatever that means.
After three hours, Tommy’s finally had enough and he asks to go build his sandpit. We get in the car and five minutes later I can see him in the rear view mirror—his eyes heavy as he starts to nod off.
“Don’t fall asleep, buddy!” I say loudly, trying to keep him awake.
He doesn’t respond.
“We’ll be home soon and we’ll set up the sandpit and you can play there for the rest of the day.” I reach back and shake his leg while I keep my focus on the road. “Don’t sleep.”
He lifts his head slowly, his eyes hooded. “I won’t,” he says through a yawn.
I glance at Becca quickly. Her brow’s bunched in confusion as she looks from me to Tommy. “Can you try to keep him awake?” I ask her. “Shake his hand or something. Anything. I can’t transfer him from the car to his bed anymore and he turns into a little turd if he gets woken.”
She nods and shakes Tommy’s arm.
“Stay awake, buddy!” I yell, knowing full well how ridiculous this might seem to her.
After a minute, she turns back around and faces the windshield. “I’m sorry,” she says. “He’s out.”
“It’s okay. He should be worn out. It was a big day for him.”
“So what do we do?”
“I normally just drive around or park somewhere until he wakes up on his own but I can drop you home first.”
“Or not,” she says quietly. “I don’t mind driving around. Or parking.”
I drive to the half-court and park in the middle. Normally I’d crack a window and skate close enough to the car that I’d still be able to see or hear Tommy. But for obvious reasons I choose to stay in the truck this time.
After switching off the engine, I turn to her. “Thanks for coming out today. He was really excited to ask you and I know you haven’t really been out much since…” I trail off.
She shrugs and takes out her camera from the bag sitting on the seat between us. Then switches on the screen at the back and starts flipping through pictures.
“Is it because you don’t know the area well or something? Because I can show you around if you want.”
She shakes her head, her eyes still focused on the camera.
I thought, or at least hoped, that after what happened yesterday and the time we’d spent together today, that she’d at least talk to me—maybe give up a little more of herself. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’d hoped a little too hard. I rest back in my seat and let the disappointment wash through me. I hear the unbuckling of her seatbelt and face her just in time to see her move to the middle of the seat. She smiles as she leans into me, her arm touching mine as she lifts the camera and shows me the picture on the screen.
It’s of Tommy—his face covered in dirt mixed with sweat and his smile from ear to ear. Probably the same as mine is right now. “When did you take this?”
“Wednesday,” she says quietly, then clears her throat. “There’s a whole bunch of them.” She leans even closer into me, so close her chest is against my arm and I panic. I move my arm and settle it on top of the seat behind her. She starts flipping through the pictures quickly and I take in every one. Then she gets to a bunch of close ups of her and Tommy. “Wait.” I cover her hand. “Go back.”
“Here.” She hands me the camera and somehow moves closer again. Now her forearm is on my leg and I can feel her warm breaths against my chest. I do my best to hide the shakiness of my hand and slowly flip through the pictures of her and Tommy. They’ve been taken outside. I can tell because her eyes are brighter—and, yeah, it doesn’t escape me that I pay way too much attention to her eyes.
I pause on one of them sitting on the porch steps. I can see her arm extended, taking the shot as she looks right at the lens… but Tommy’s looking at her, his eyes shut tight and his nose against her cheek. The next one has him kissing her cheek, her nose scrunched a little but her smile wide. I swallow loudly, my heart thumping against my chest. My thumb traces over the picture while I take in every single detail of it—mentally burning the image in my mind. There’s an ache in my chest, not from the beating of my heart, but from the breaking. Still, for some reason, I want more of whatever is causing the pain. “Can I get a copy of these?”
She doesn’t respond but I can feel her shifting next to me. The warmth caused by her breaths leaves my chest and returns a moment later, only now it’s against my neck and my eyes close when I feel her exhale softly against my skin, then hear her inhale through her nose, sniffing me. I’m about to back away from her but her hand moves to my nape, keeping me with her. She runs her fingers through my hair and I keep my eyes closed; goose bumps pricking my entire body. I wonder if she can feel it. If the hairs on the back of my neck tickle her fingers as her hand moves down and her face moves up and she kisses right under my ear and I swear to God everything stops. Everything.
My breath.
Her hands.
My heart.
Her lips.
My world.
Everything.
Stops.
Then she exhales.
And my eyes snap open.
She whispers, “You smell so good.”
After checking out, they lead the way, hand in hand, to my truck, where I dump the sandpit and all the accessories (buckets, shovels, you name it) in the back. It costs a lot more than the money he’d earned over the last month but who am I to say no? Especially when getting the extra stuff meant spending more time with Becca. And him, of course.
When everything’s strapped in, I turn around and see them having another one of their silent conversations. Tommy rubs his belly, and then points to her. She purses her lips and looks up to the skies, then rubs her own belly. He gives her a thumbs up and she returns it. Then they both look at me, a question in their eyes. And I stand there silent and unmoving because, seriously? What the hell just happened? Tommy crosses his arms. Becca quirks an eyebrow.
I nod.
They celebrate.
I sigh. “Okay, I’m going to be honest. I have no idea what you guys just said, or asked, or whatever.”
Tommy sighs louder than I just did and throws in an eye roll. Sometimes I truly question how old the kid is.
Becca bends at her waist so she’s eye level with him, then holds up three fingers.
He nods and looks up at me. “Me and Becca are hungry. Can we eat?”
“That’s what that was?”
Becca snorts with laughter. Legit, snorts. And no lie—it’s kind of hot.
I take them to Tommy’s favorite place—Chuck E Cheese, where we scoff down our meals and I double-dog-dare Becca to have another fried pickle, which she refuses. We spend the rest of the afternoon playing games and going from one ride to the next. Normally, I’d find an excuse to cut out after an hour or so but honestly, it’s not so bad with Becca around. It’s actually kind of fun. The two of them still live and play in their own worlds, but occasionally, they’ll try to get me involved in it. It’s a whole lot of pointing and nodding and head shaking and holding up one or two fingers—whatever that means.
After three hours, Tommy’s finally had enough and he asks to go build his sandpit. We get in the car and five minutes later I can see him in the rear view mirror—his eyes heavy as he starts to nod off.
“Don’t fall asleep, buddy!” I say loudly, trying to keep him awake.
He doesn’t respond.
“We’ll be home soon and we’ll set up the sandpit and you can play there for the rest of the day.” I reach back and shake his leg while I keep my focus on the road. “Don’t sleep.”
He lifts his head slowly, his eyes hooded. “I won’t,” he says through a yawn.
I glance at Becca quickly. Her brow’s bunched in confusion as she looks from me to Tommy. “Can you try to keep him awake?” I ask her. “Shake his hand or something. Anything. I can’t transfer him from the car to his bed anymore and he turns into a little turd if he gets woken.”
She nods and shakes Tommy’s arm.
“Stay awake, buddy!” I yell, knowing full well how ridiculous this might seem to her.
After a minute, she turns back around and faces the windshield. “I’m sorry,” she says. “He’s out.”
“It’s okay. He should be worn out. It was a big day for him.”
“So what do we do?”
“I normally just drive around or park somewhere until he wakes up on his own but I can drop you home first.”
“Or not,” she says quietly. “I don’t mind driving around. Or parking.”
I drive to the half-court and park in the middle. Normally I’d crack a window and skate close enough to the car that I’d still be able to see or hear Tommy. But for obvious reasons I choose to stay in the truck this time.
After switching off the engine, I turn to her. “Thanks for coming out today. He was really excited to ask you and I know you haven’t really been out much since…” I trail off.
She shrugs and takes out her camera from the bag sitting on the seat between us. Then switches on the screen at the back and starts flipping through pictures.
“Is it because you don’t know the area well or something? Because I can show you around if you want.”
She shakes her head, her eyes still focused on the camera.
I thought, or at least hoped, that after what happened yesterday and the time we’d spent together today, that she’d at least talk to me—maybe give up a little more of herself. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’d hoped a little too hard. I rest back in my seat and let the disappointment wash through me. I hear the unbuckling of her seatbelt and face her just in time to see her move to the middle of the seat. She smiles as she leans into me, her arm touching mine as she lifts the camera and shows me the picture on the screen.
It’s of Tommy—his face covered in dirt mixed with sweat and his smile from ear to ear. Probably the same as mine is right now. “When did you take this?”
“Wednesday,” she says quietly, then clears her throat. “There’s a whole bunch of them.” She leans even closer into me, so close her chest is against my arm and I panic. I move my arm and settle it on top of the seat behind her. She starts flipping through the pictures quickly and I take in every one. Then she gets to a bunch of close ups of her and Tommy. “Wait.” I cover her hand. “Go back.”
“Here.” She hands me the camera and somehow moves closer again. Now her forearm is on my leg and I can feel her warm breaths against my chest. I do my best to hide the shakiness of my hand and slowly flip through the pictures of her and Tommy. They’ve been taken outside. I can tell because her eyes are brighter—and, yeah, it doesn’t escape me that I pay way too much attention to her eyes.
I pause on one of them sitting on the porch steps. I can see her arm extended, taking the shot as she looks right at the lens… but Tommy’s looking at her, his eyes shut tight and his nose against her cheek. The next one has him kissing her cheek, her nose scrunched a little but her smile wide. I swallow loudly, my heart thumping against my chest. My thumb traces over the picture while I take in every single detail of it—mentally burning the image in my mind. There’s an ache in my chest, not from the beating of my heart, but from the breaking. Still, for some reason, I want more of whatever is causing the pain. “Can I get a copy of these?”
She doesn’t respond but I can feel her shifting next to me. The warmth caused by her breaths leaves my chest and returns a moment later, only now it’s against my neck and my eyes close when I feel her exhale softly against my skin, then hear her inhale through her nose, sniffing me. I’m about to back away from her but her hand moves to my nape, keeping me with her. She runs her fingers through my hair and I keep my eyes closed; goose bumps pricking my entire body. I wonder if she can feel it. If the hairs on the back of my neck tickle her fingers as her hand moves down and her face moves up and she kisses right under my ear and I swear to God everything stops. Everything.
My breath.
Her hands.
My heart.
Her lips.
My world.
Everything.
Stops.
Then she exhales.
And my eyes snap open.
She whispers, “You smell so good.”
