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I look up to observe questioning glances from the attendants just before Jillian says, “He’s not a fan of walking.” She turns herhead away from the phone, and I remember she needs to work so she doesn’t get into trouble with her boss.
“No, I just meant I’d walk over to the pond with him.” Trying to cover for my blunder. “Don’t worry about us. Finish up, and we’ll see you in a bit.” Lindsey hands me a sheet of paper, documenting how his morning went, and a diaper bag. “But call if you want to check in,” I add, hoping Jillian will feel more comfortable.
“Okay, see you boys soon.”
I disconnect the call and thank the two women behind the counter before walking out with him. I have to say, this is oddly more comfortable than I expected when I volunteered to help her. “You want to go see the ducks?”
Truitt smiles, kicking his feet, and we make our way to the grassy area surrounding a small pond with a water fountain in the center. Crouching down, I watch as he carefully crawls a bit closer to the water but stops, looking back at me. He pulls up a handful of grass, and I nervously inch forward to make sure he doesn’t shove it in his mouth. However, as I reach him, one of the ducks flaps its wings, causing several of them to quack, stealing Truitt’s attention.
Oh, to view the world how he sees it. So innocent and trusting, enjoying nature and learning new things each day. It hits me what an idiot his father must be. Why would anyone not want to be in the picture with Jillian and her children? They seem well behaved, and she’s amazing. Maybe he was a cheat. Simply not interested in being tied down. She deserves better than that. They all do.
But my father was no different. My mother was trapped in a loveless marriage. He wouldn’t let her divorce him, but gave her no attention beyond cruelty and lies. She slipped further and further into depression, knowing he was sleeping with other women and doing dangerous, despicable things. TheMessina family business dealt in drugs, sex trafficking, money laundering, and guns. Anything that would bring more power and wealth, regardless of the risk or depravity. I suspected he may have hit my mother a time or two as well. When he drank, he became unhinged. We all deserved better than we got, but none more than my sweet mother.
“Can you say quack?” I ask, tickling him. “Quack. Quack.”
Nothing. He only grins.
“How ’bout Mama. C’mon,” I plead. “If you say Mama, I might get some lip action with your pretty mama.” I over emphasize the two syllables.
Nothing.
“Thanks a lot.”
Truitt spots something behind me and crawls over as I twist to see what has his attention.
“Oh, you’ve got good eyes, my friend.” Apparently, one of the Dum Dum lollipops fell out of my back pocket while I was seated on the ground. “I’ll probably get in trouble if I give you sweets. Are you even old enough to have this?” I scoop him up, putting him in my lap before unwrapping the tiny sucker. “I have to help you with this, okay? So you don’t choke.”
Truitt’s legs begin to kick in sheer glee as the candy enters his mouth. Looking down, he has drool dripping from his chin onto my pants.
“Oh, you’re a mess.” I reach for the diaper bag and find a small cloth that looks to be clean and try to wipe his mouth, but more spittle trails down from one corner of his lips. “Is it that good?” I chuckle.
He tries to climb free of my hold, and I discover he’s reaching for the diaper bag. Retrieving a container of baby snacks, I let him shake it for a bit before opening the top to place a few in my hand. He reaches for them, and I quickly withdraw the lollipop and re-wrap it before tucking it into my back pocket.
“There. It would be bad enough not getting a kiss, but I don’t want to be on her bad side for giving you candy.”
He puts the fingertips of both hands together repeatedly and it seems as if he’s using sign language of some sort. Is he deaf? I really haven’t heard him speak. He uses his hands in the same motion once more and appears to get frustrated that I’m not responding.
“You want more of these?” I pour two more in my palm, and he scarfs them down before I can blink. I wonder how many of these he’s allowed to eat. I look at the packaging for the serving size and decide to let him have a few more before putting it away and walking closer to the ER for when Jillian finishes her shift.
“Can you say Mama?”
He responds by blowing spit bubbles at me. Little remnants of his snack spray on my shirt.
“Nice, little man. That wasn’t the lip action I was going for.”
I stand and gather his things, walking back over to where the ducks are congregating before turning to make my way toward the ER doors. As we walk, I notice the two daycare attendants standing in the doorway. They quickly scatter once they realize they’ve been spotted. A few nurses standing on the sidewalk are also eyeing me. Is it really that odd to see a tatted-up man in his late twenties with a baby? I’m probably being paranoid.
We take a seat on a bench outside of the emergency room, and I pull out my phone, hoping it will offer a distraction.Hmm. What would you like to watch?Mimmo used to likeDaniel Tiger. I do a YouTube search and hit the jackpot.
Truitt is happily watching the cartoon when I notice two nurses walk over to where we’re seated.
“Hi.”
“Hello,” I answer.
“Jillian should be finishing up soon. She’s just giving report to the oncoming nurse.”
I shift in my seat, feeling more relaxed knowing they’re friends of Jillian’s.
