Usually, he likes walking by himself, but today he wants me to carry him. When we arrive at the facility, he refuses to be put down, clinging to my arms. “No, Mama.”
“Hey, Zeke,” one of the helpers says, buzzing us inside past the double doors.
“Thanks.” I force a smile and walk with him to his classroom. He doesn’t so much as loosen his death grip around my neck.
“Good morning, Zeke,” his teacher, Miss Adderly, says. She’s maybe got a year or two on me, not much more. There are multiple assistants who help with the kids as part of their early education curriculum.
He buries his face in my neck, pretending not to notice her.
“We’re going to work with finger paints today. Isn’t that fun?”
I try to untangle from Zeke’s grip around my neck, but I have zero success.
“Did something happen at home?” Miss Adderly asks, noticing Zeke’s unusual demeanor. Typically, he runs into class excited to play with the other kids.
Not today.
Zeke’s eyes widen as he stares at me. He opens his mouth, and I answer before he can say anything incriminating.
“The storm broke a window in Zeke’s room when he was sleeping. It was a rough night.”
Zeke pulls back, staring at me. “Mama shot a bad guy.”
I force a smile and laugh. “Kids and their overactive imaginations.”
Miss Adderly can’t honestly believe I shot someone. I’m sure she’s heard it all before, the craziest stories from the kids she teaches.
She glances at me peculiarly, and I smile, laughing again to disarm the situation. “That’s right, we were playing a retro game, Duck Hunt, this weekend on Nintendo.”
“That sounds fun,” Miss Adderly says with a warm smile, the tension disappearing from her shoulders.
Zeke stares at me, his brow furrowed, and I pepper him with kisses. “Are you ready to go play with your friends?”
I shoot a quick text to Luca after dropping Zeke off at daycare.
Me: Can you meet me for lunch?
Luca: Dining hall, noon?
Me: Yes.
Luca: Everything okay?
Me: Not really.
I can’t tell him what’s wrong, not over text. I hurry toward my advertising class: Social Media and Personal Branding, and glance at my phone, when I feel it vibrate with a new message.
Luca: I love you.
His words bring a smile to my lips. I quickly send him a text back before shoving my phone into my sweater pocket.
Me: I love you too.
I’m grateful that at least my classes are going well this semester. I’m actually enjoying school, more than I had been freshman year with all gen eds. The worst class I’m taking is Consumer Data and Society, which isn’t hard, but it is a bit dull. It’s still not as bad as Econ 101 or that dreaded Statistics class I took last year. Without Luca, I’d have undoubtedly failed both of those classes.
Class breezes by and I have a massive assignment that’s due next Friday. I head from one class to the next, until it’s finally lunchtime and I get to meet up with Luca. I hurry across campus, making it to the dining hall and spot him waiting in the foyer for me.
“Hey,” he whispers and pulls me into his arms, his lips on mine. One hand tangles in my hair and the other is secure around my hip, holding me firmly against him.
