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“Then that kid was pretty stupid,” he told his son through gritted teeth, picking him up and holding him in his arms. “You don’t know what your name means, do you, kid?”
Reagan shook his head and Felix and I smiled at each other as I walked up to them.
“It means little king,” I told him. “So the next time the kids tease you, just tell them that.”
He’d smiled at that, just like he was then at the graveyard.
It was a beautiful Sunday, with summer just starting in the city. I held his hand and he led me to the grave.
I took some time to remove the burnt-out candles, and Reagan was my happy little helper. We lit some new candles, and just like always, I let King’s son set them down on his father’s grave.
He had a daddy, but he’d never get to know his father, and the knowledge of that pained me every day. But seeing Reagan grow up made it easier day by day, his beautiful smile, those bright eyes, all the ways in which he reminded me of his father.
“Do you want to say something?” I asked him, noticing his stern expression as he stared at the headstone.
“Yeah,” he said, with an important look on his face. “I would like to tell him I stood up to the bullies today.”
“Go on,” I urged him, excited to hear what happened.
He puffed out his chest as he went on, talking to the headstone. The sight broke my heart, but I welcomed the pain. More often than not it felt better that way.
“I told them what my name really meant,” he said. “And I told them my father was a real king, just like I’m going to be.”
Tears welled in my eyes when my son looked at me with a wicked glint, one I knew all too well.
“And then I told them my daddy would kick their butts if they picked on me,” he finished proudly, and I laughed out loud and hugged him.
“You did a good job, kid,” Felix’s voice interrupted from behind us, and Reagan took his outstretched hand. Felix nodded at me, and they walked to the bench a little way off, giving me a moment.
Reagan was the best gift I could’ve asked for, but what I was thankful for even more was the way Felix was around him.
He never, for one second, let me feel guilty. He took care of Reagan like he was his own, taking time off work to spend it with him, always worrying and fussing over our child. And that was really what he was, despite everything that happened before us. We were his parents, and we were the ones taking care of him and bringing him up.
I missed King. It felt like the light had gone out of my life when I learned of his passing. But now, with his son with me, I felt a little pinprick of light was in my life, and I lived for it, seeing it get bigger and bigger as the years passed and Reagan grew up into a healthy, happy little boy.
I stood at the grave, with my hand on my belly.
There was a new life growing inside me, and I wanted to ask for King’s blessing.
I knew he couldn’t say yes or no, of course. But I wanted this moment, just between us. I wanted to look up at the sky and let the wind dry the tears on my cheeks, and I wanted to feel like he’d approve of my new life. He said it was what he wanted for me, and I wanted to make him proud with everything I did.
I looked up at the sky and let the tears fall, my hand firmly placed on my growing belly. I was well into my second trimester, and I was definitely starting to show.
As I stared up at the sky, I felt a single kick in my belly, and I gasped so loud I heard approaching footsteps the next second.
“Baby, are you okay?”
I looked into Felix’s eyes, and smiled at him.
“What’s wrong, Mom?”
Reagan took my hand and I ruffled his hair.
“I just felt a kick,” I told him with a big, silly grin. “The baby kicked!”
“Well,” Reagan puffed. “That’s good, right?”
“It’s good,” I giggled in reply. “It means she’s okay and doing well.”
Felix took me into his arms. He held me so fucking close I could feel his heart beating against mine. He held me so close I felt like we were one.
I pressed my lips against his, needily, quickly. He kissed me back with all the love he’d had for me all along.
“Thank you, baby,” he whispered in my ear, and I grinned against his lips. “Thank you, my love.”
Reagan asked if he could light another candle, for the baby, he said. I told him it was a lovely thing to do.
