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“He’s an… old friend,” Ayla explained. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“Oh, okay. Is he coming to the park with us?”
“Yes, just for a little bit. I have to talk to him about s
ome stuff. Desiree is coming to watch you, okay? Your suit is packed; you can just get wet in your clothes.”
“Awesome,” Preston replied.
They pulled into the park, and Preston kicked off his shoes, peeled off his shirt, handed Ayla his slushie, and ran for the fountains.
Ayla waved to Mick as he pulled in and she sauntered over to a picnic table shaded by a tree within shouting distance of the water feature, where Preston had already found two boys near his age to play with.
Mick had guzzled his purple Gatorade on the drive to the park. He carried his green one along, wishing he had something stronger to calm his nerves.
“Is this okay?” Ayla asked, setting down her things on the table.
“You’re the expert, Ayla. I don’t have any kids,” Mick said, sitting down. “It’s sad, I drive through here quite often and I never knew there was a park here. It’s nice.”
Ayla wanted to correct him, to tell him he did “have a kid,” but she remained silent on the matter.
“It’s one pf Preston’s favorite places,” Ayla said, watching him chase one of his new friends through the grass by the fountain.
“He looks like fun. A handful, I’m sure, but I bet it’s a great age. Is he what, seven?”
“Just turned six, actually.”
“And it’s just the two of you?” Mick asked. Ayla watched Desiree get out of her car and walk toward the fountains. Desiree was tall and pretty, and Ayla was used to guys hitting on her friend whenever they went out in public together. In fact, on more than one occasion, dads who’d brought their kids to play at Mojave Pointe Park had tried to leave with Desiree’s number.
Ayla watched Mick’s face to see if he’d turn and stare at Desiree like so many guys did, but he was too busy hanging on every musical note that masqueraded as Ayla’s voice left her throat to notice the beautiful, statuesque black woman strolling across the park.
“Yes,” Ayla confessed. She glanced over at Preston, who had excitedly left the splash pad to give Desiree a big hug, soaking Ayla’s roommate despite her protestations.
“That can’t be easy,” Mick said. She seemed sad, and he wanted to reach across and hold Ayla’s hands, to console her, but he was still worried about coming on too strong. Not that it concerned him much those years back when he’d come on so strong he wound up…no. He had to banish those thoughts. His cup was already too uncomfortable without having arousal to deal with. “You live here, then? Have you got family to help with your son?”
“No, not exactly.” Ayla was on the brink of tears. Mick couldn’t know it, but he was taking her down a very painful path.
Mick couldn’t stand it anymore, and he placed his large, open hands in front of hers, inviting her to hold them. She accepted without hesitation. His thumbs rubbed the backs of her hands softly and he looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m being too personal.”
“No, not at all,” Ayla explained. Tears began to fall down her cheeks, and she let them. Her heart would surely burst if she didn’t tell Mick the truth, despite her better judgement. “When I got pregnant with Preston, I was only eighteen. My parents, well, they were ashamed. And angry. Me having a baby, out of wedlock, was scandalous, in their eyes.”
Mick’s hands engulfed Ayla’s. “It may not be my place to say so, but that’s bollocks. Your son seems so happy, like such a good lad. They’re his grandparents! And your mum and dad! The whole thing breaks my heart in half, Ayla, it truly does.” Without thinking, Mick reached across and wiped the tears from Ayla’s left cheek with his right hand.
“Mick, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to tell you this, and it might make you hate me or I don’t know what, but Preston is… he’s… well, he’s your son. You’re his father. You were the only one. I couldn’t find you again. I tried and tried. Please don’t hate me, and don’t be mad at him…”
Ayla’s confession came directly from her soul, a place she kept her deepest pain and all her innermost hopes and dreams.
Mick let go of her hands and stood up from the table. He stumbled two steps back from the table as if he’d been slapped.
The initial shock on his face softened just a bit as he looked over at the splash pad and watched Preston chasing Desiree with a bucket filled with water. The way he ran and smiled reminded him of someone he’d known at that age.
His little brother, Frank.
Mick began to cry.
He probably hadn’t cried in ten years. And now here he was.
He looked back at Ayla, who was sobbing, and then again to Preston. He went through the calculations in his mind, and the dates seemed to roughly line up. It would have been almost seven years ago, that night at Scald. Nine months later, plus six years…
