I clicked on their main email and sent in my so-called resume.
“Daddy? Did Nana call?”
I smiled and peeked over the couch again. “Yeah, buddy, she did.”
“I thought I heard you talking.”
There was new rustling and soon my son hurtled over the end of the couch with Mr. Raven in tow. Tony climbed over me and settled on my chest, sighing happily.
“Now that you’re up, we should go out. Park and diner, remember?”
Tony made a disgruntled little sound. “Do we have to?”
Keeping my face neutral in case Tony looked up, I replied, “Yes. We’ve agreed that we go outside twice a day, right?”
“But we don’t have horses or dogs anymore.”
It hurt. Of course it did. My perfect little kid, who had only started to talk a year ago when he could speak in full sentences he enunciated perfectly most of the time, had hit the nail on the head. Or a nail into my head, really.
I knew Tony didn’t know better. Didn’t understand the hurt.
“Yes, but fresh air is important. Besides, milkshakes.” I made my stomach bounce so that the boy almost slid off, giggling like crazy.
“Okay, okay!” Tony hated being tickled, so this was one of the alternatives.
He really was a very particular little boy. I couldn’t have loved him more.
“Go pee and we can go, okay?”
“I’ll leave Mr. Raven on my bed first.”
I sat up and cracked my neck. Okay. I could do this. I knew a cheap diner where the food was decent. I could cook the same stuff here in the kitchenette, but that would mean there was no incentive milkshake. My son, who had grown up on the same farm I had, disliked the outdoors.
He tolerated dogs, liked cats, abhorred chickens, and was ambivalent about horses. Ever since he was little, putting him down in the dirt was the worst offense. He liked the grass where he could sit down if he wanted to without getting dirty, but he freaked out about bugs. Still.
I was pretty sure Tony loved our little apartment just because it was bug free, clean, and indoors.
“Okay, Daddy, I’m ready!”
Pushing to my feet, I grabbed my phone and wallet, and moved across the small room to the door.
I glanced over at the windows. “Looks good, bud. We don’t need jackets, but do you want your hoodie just in case?”
“Yes, please.”
I grabbed the black hoodie with some tiny planet pattern all over and helped Tony to tie it around his waist.
“Let’s go; I’m getting hungry and the park waits for no man,” I said in a jaunty tone.
Tony giggled in a distinct way that told me he was exasperated. I wouldn’t dare to try dad jokes with this one.
No, scratch that, I did. I just had to find actually clever ones, because Tony was four going on fourteen. I still wasn’t sure how Vera and I had managed to make such an atypical, highly intelligent child.
The next day, I woke up to two more rejection emails. Then, around lunch time, I got one from that last place, Blue Creek Ranch.
Mr. Trevino,
Thank you for contacting us. While we’re not officially hiring, we’ve been meaning to, so your email couldn’t have arrived at a better moment.
