From the corner of my eye I can see her smiling, even though her head’s lowered—probably trying to hide her own embarrassment. I don’t know why she’d be embarrassed. She’s not the one getting called out for being pathetic.

I focus on the road. Nothing but the road. Not her legs. Or her short blue dress. Or her cowboy boots. Or her hands settled on her lap, her thumbs circling each other.

She clears her throat and I refocus on the road I thought I was focused on. “Where are we going?” she asks.

My fingers grip the steering wheel tighter while I try to piece myself back together. “Toy store. He gets to spend the money he’s earned. You know when we were there for dinner and you and Chazarae gave him the dollar for setting the table? That’s kind of like his allowance and once a month I take him toy shopping for whatever he wants.”

She nods slowly.

I add, “I know it might seem weird. You know, considering his age, but I just want to start him off early—to know that hard work pays off and nothing comes for free. I just think it’s important. I don’t really know why. I don’t really know what I’m doing when it comes to being his dad. I guess I just do my best. I try to teach him manners and respect and hopefully it’s something that’ll stick with him. It’s hard, you know… being a single dad and making all the decisions and trying to work out…” I trail off, my eyes wide when I realize all I’ve just said. “I’ve just given you way more information than you asked for.” I glance at her quickly but she’s looking down at her hands. “I’m sorry. I ramble a lot.” I pull into a spot in the parking lot at the mall, and then switch off the engine—my eyes still wide and my awkwardness at an all-new high.

She shifts in her seat but I’m too afraid to look at her. I see her hand moving across the bench seat, coming closer and closer to mine. I swallow nervously. Time slows. And when her little finger brushes across my wrist, every single muscle in my body tenses. Her palm covers the back of my hand, her fingers sliding between mine. “Josh?” she whispers, and I finally look at her. “You’re doing an amazing job. Tommy—he gives me the courage to push on. You know… after I kick.”

“Like skating?”

She nods, her gaze lifting and locking with mine.

Then Tommy huffs in the back seat, breaking our stare. “My boogers taste like finger of peach.”

7

-Joshua-

Tommy and Becca pretty much ignore me as they walk hand in hand through the store. They seem to have their own silent language—one that I’m completely unaware of. They smile. A lot. Not just at each other, but in general.

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.”