Page 96 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

I smiled. Elijah pointed toward a single fish swimming beneath the school. “That one has the right idea.” Malik watched it until it disappeared behind a rock.

We moved through the exhibits slowly. Elijah never rushed Malik when he wanted to remain in front of a tank. He read every sign aloud when Malik looked toward it and helped him press the illuminated buttons on an interactive display.

At the stingray pool, Malik watched other children dip their hands into the water.

“You want to touch one?” I asked.

His eyes moved from the pool to me. The edge was too high for him to reach comfortably from his chair. I could have lifted him, but the angle would’ve been awkward, and the crowd pressed close around the exhibit. Before I could decide whether to move on, Elijah approached an employee. A few minutes later, she opened a gate near the end of the pool and led us to a lower section I hadn’t noticed. Elijah guided Malik into place, then stepped back.

The employee showed Malik how to hold his hand near the surface. I supported his wrist while a stingray passed beneath his fingertips.

His entire body jerked with excitement and water splashed over my sleeve.

“You felt it?”

Malik clapped hard enough to spray more water. The stingray circled and returned. This time Elijah supported Malik’s forearm while I crouched on his other side. The ray slid beneath his hand. Malik squealed. The sound drew smiles from the people around us. For one second, my vision blurred. Not because touching a stingray was extraordinary. Children did it every day.

But so many outings required planning around what Malik couldn’t reach. Doors that were too narrow. Tables that trapped his chair at an uncomfortable angle. Activities described as accessible because a ramp existed somewhere, even when the experience of waiting at the top still excluded him. Watching him touch the water without being lifted, twisted, or made into a spectacle made my heart soar.

Elijah dried Malik’s hand with a towel. When he looked at me, his expression changed.

“You okay?”

I nodded. “He liked it.”

“He did.”

His hand brushed my back as we continued. By the time we reached the shark gallery, Malik had grown quieter. His head rested more heavily against the support, and the Spider-Man figure had slipped sideways in his lap. I checked his face and touched the back of my fingers to his cheek.

“You tired baby?”

His eyelids lowered.

“We can sit for a while,” Elijah said.

A curved bench faced the largest tank. We positioned Malik between us and watched sharks drift through the blue water. The room was darker than the other galleries. Light from the tank moved across Elijah’s face, turning the sharp line of his jaw blue before fading into shadow.

Malik followed a sea turtle floating near the glass. Elijah rested his forearms on his thighs. “I had a turtle when I was nine.”

I looked at him. “You did?”

“His name was Franklin.”

“After the cartoon?”

“No. Benjamin Franklin.”

I stared at him.

“My father named him.”

That made more sense.

“How long did you have him?”

“Three months. Xander left the lid open, and Franklin escaped.”

“A turtle escaped from your house?”