Page 22 of Defensive Indifference

“Speaking of payment. Here is this week’s pay. Thank you so much for staying late with him today.”

Ansley assures me it’s not a problem, accepts her pay, and gives Dustin a big hug on her way out. It’s only now that Dustin even notices Koa standing beside me. His eyes go wide and his mouth falls open, but I don’t give him a chance to be shocked by Koa’s presence for long. If he’s going to be surprised by something, it should be our outing.

“Guess what, kiddo? Mr. Keaton is taking us for pizza and video games. What do you think?” I lean over the back of the sofa conspiratorially. “Or would you rather have my lasagna tonight and send him home?”

“Do I get a say in this?” Koa teases.

As I say no, Dustin ignores my choices and runs to his room to get his shoes. There is no doubt about it, Koa is his favorite person now and forever.

“Make yourself comfortable. I want to change, then we can head out, if that’s okay?” Motioning down the hall, I assume he will be amenable and agree that a woman wearing a fifties style diner outfit that smells like coffee and baked goods isn’t appropriate for going out. However, he grasps my hand and tugs me back a few steps.

“You look fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m dressed like a crazy person for pizza and games. Plus, this thing is actually uncomfortable.”

Koa chuckles and releases my hand. “You know, I think you get to decide the uniforms. Maybe a change is in order once you find a new location? I could—”

“Mr. Keaton! Are you going with us to the arcade? I love the arcade. I’m so good at the…”

My son rambles on long enough for me to escape the living room and change. Ideally, I’d also like a shower, but I doubt either of them will give me the luxury. Instead, I spritz a little vanilla essential oil on my wrist, tie my hair up in a sleeker ponytail, change into jeans and a tee, and call it a day. It’s better than the uniform, at least.

Out in the living room, Koa and Dustin are working through the racing game so I pop my hip and gasp. “Excuse me, but I thought we were in some sort of hurry?”

Koa dips his head back to look over the sofa and eyes me up and down. An easy grin tugs at his lips before he nudges Dustin. “I think she’s forgetting something, what about you, slugger?”

“I’m not sure,” Dustin says, but the little stinker knows something.

I back away from the sofa. “Whatever the two of you planned while I was getting ready will have to—”

I’m stunned into silence when Koa swipes his fingers across my cheek, depositing a sticker. My mouth falls open and I point at my son. “You told him about our game? You little stinker! That’s not fair. You don’t get to bring in new players without my approval.”

Our game. The silly game we’ve played since Dustin was a toddler. We’d sneakily put stickers on each other and see how long it took the other person to find them. Once, he put one on the back of my uniform and I walked around with it all day. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it hadn’t been a bumper sticker the size of a semitruck that said, “honk if you love donuts.” It did, however, explain why people honked at me in the parking lot.

Dustin’s goofy giggle reminds me of how fast he’s growing. It felt like yesterday that we started this game, but it’s been years. I peel the sticker from my cheek and shove it onto Koa’s forehead. “Come on, you two, or we’ll never get a hot pizza.”

Dustin practically bounces out the front door, while Koa’s gentle touch on my elbow leads me out. He pulls the door shut behind us and waits while I lock it, then guides me down the hallway as if he’s our protector and a big, scary monster might attack us between the door and his car.

“We’re going in that?” My son’s wide eyes say everything. He’s not only excited, but he could get used to this. My instinct to protect him kicks in, but I can’t ruin this night for him. This is it, though. No more excursions. Only coaching. That’s it, because I can’t let my son be disappointed by another man who has no intention of staying in his life.

An hour and one large pizza later, Dustin is in hog heaven. Much to my dismay and protest, Koa felt it was necessary to load my child’s game card with two hundred dollars’ worth of tokens. At this rate, we’ll be here all night. It isn’t until Dustin decides to play a basketball game that Koa finally steps away from my son and gives his attention to me. I can’t complain, frankly, that he has spent over half an hour pretending I don’t exist while spoiling my child, but it’s not something either of us should enjoy too much.

Koa leans against the railing separating the game area from the waiting area and smiles. “He’s a really great kid.”

“I know, but I might be a little biased.”

“Biased or not, you’re right.” He slides a bit closer until his fingers graze mine on the rail. “I am truly sorry for everything that happened between us. Apparently, I don’t handle stress well. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel as if I’ve made amends.”

Dipping my head, I try to come up with the words that will set his mind at ease. If nothing else, his dedication and attention toward Dustin have made up for everything. “I know you’re sorry. I forgive you, truly.”

My eyes never leave my son, who laughs and throws the ball again.

“You worry about him.” Koa stands straight and shifts his weight so he’s facing me. “I probably don’t have a right to assume anything about you, but I see it in your eyes.”

His stare exposes those parts of me that stay on high alert at all times. The parts that not only worry for my son, but find themselves in constant limbo between letting him grow and wanting to shelter him from every bad thing that could ever happen to him. This, coupled with Koa’s encouraging, warm eyes have me spilling my guts where normally I’d clam up.

“I do. It’s hard to raise a son, and I worry I’m not enough sometimes.”

“He’s a great kid. Must mean you’re doing something right. He’s gonna be fine. He’s got a great mom, and you’re working hard to make sure he has exposure to great men. His coach is one of the best I know.”