Page 23 of Sobek’s Joy

Rudy’s expression shifted. “Good. Because I like you being here too.”

This is the moment. This is when you should tell him. They stood so close to each other, Sobek just had to reach out to touch. Surrounded by the beautiful mess of Rudy’s life - the pile of tiny shoes by the door, the crayon drawings taped to the walls, the sounds of the children arguing over who got which sandwich - and Sobek wanted to fall to his knees and claim his man. Wanted to mark Rudy with his power and spend the rest of their eternity showing his devotion until the whole universe knew that Rudy Crisp belonged to an ancient god.

Instead, he followed Rudy to the kitchen and ate grilled cheese while Rose narrated the entire history of cheese - creatively but totally inaccurately - and Jack demonstrated his new technique for fitting half a sandwich in his mouth at once which was horrifyingly impressive. Timothy sat curled against Sobek’s side like a barnacle.

Tomorrow, Sobek promised himself. Tomorrow I’ll tell him everything.

/~/~/~/~/

By late afternoon, Sobek had fixed six doors and created a small army of “helpers” who were more hindrance than assistance.

“Rose, you can stop opening and closing that door now.”

“But it’s so smooth now. Listen.” She demonstrated again, pushing the door slowly to make it whisper on its freshly oiled hinges.

“I am listening. I have listened seventeen times.”

“But this time is different.”

It was not different. Sobek had verified the door’s functionality after the eighth demonstration. The subsequent nine had been pure entertainment value for Rose, who apparently found properly functioning doors to be the height of excitement.

“Rose, sweetie, leave Sobek alone.” Rudy’s voice drifted from upstairs, where he was attempting to wrangle laundry. “Go play with your brothers.”

“Jack’s boring. He’s reading.”

“Then play with Timothy.”

“Timothy’s boring too. He’s just sitting there.”

Sobek glanced toward the living room, where Timothy had indeed planted himself on the couch, watching Sobek work. The child hadn’t moved in twenty minutes except to track Sobek’s movements from door to door.

“I’ll play with you,” Sobek offered, before his brain could point out that he had no idea how to play with four-year-olds.

Rose’s face transformed with joy. “Really? Can we play panthers?”

“What’s…”

But Rose had already dropped to all fours, growling with surprising accuracy for a child who theoretically had never seen a panther. She pounced toward the hallway, then spun back to Sobek with expectant eyes.

“You have to chase me.”

“I’m fixing…”

“Please?” Rose widened her eyes. “Jack never plays panthers anymore and Timothy just sits there and Daddy always says yes but then he gets distracted by laundry or dishes or something boring.”

Sobek looked at his toolbox. Looked at Rose’s hopeful face. Looked at Timothy, who had perked up slightly at the mention of playing.

“Five minutes.”

“Yes.” Rose took off running, her laughter echoing through the house.

Sobek followed at a measured pace, tracking the sound of tiny feet on hardwood. Rose had “hidden” behind the living room curtains, her small body creating an obvious lump in the fabric, giggles barely suppressed.

“Where could Rose be,” Sobek intoned with utterly flat delivery. “I cannot find her anywhere.”

More giggles and then the curtain wiggled.

“Perhaps she is in the kitchen.”