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“Uh-oh,” I said with a laugh as I took the package from his outstretched hand. He’d obviously been doing some secret online shopping.
“What is it?” Grant asked excitedly as I tugged another T-shirt out.
I read the print out loud: “What did King George think of the American Colonies? He Thought They Were Revolting.”
“No way,” Grant said. “The perfect pun for Dad.”
“I thought so too,” Marcus replied, high-fiving Grant.
“It’s awesome,” I said, holding it up. “Just give me a minute to throw it on.”
When I came out of the bathroom, wearing the shirt, I could see a brightness in my kid’s expression that’d been missing the past couple of years. My eyes suddenly stung, and I looked away, willing myself to get it together. Fuck, I was being too emotional. It was only a stupid shirt.
A very thoughtful, awesome, stupid shirt.
The weather held up, no rain or wind in sight, which meant more neighbors were out in their yards, with their lawn chairs and portable fire pits, making it feel all the more festive. Ruby was behind the screen door like always, watching the world go by, but tonight she had way more activity to keep her interested.
Marcus switched places with me on the stoop to help Grant pass out more candy while I sank down with a cold one in my favorite wicker chair. Most of the kids had no idea what Grant’s costume was—and sometimes vice versa because pop culture was so not Grant’s thing—but a few of the parents did, which wasn’t surprising. The musical was all anyone talked about the first couple of years after it debuted.
I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as I watched Grant and Marcus chat and interact with the neighbors, a few waving to me and glancing curiously at the three of us. It didn’t really matter, though, because it was none of their business, and besides, the atmosphere in this house hadn’t felt this celebratory since…well, since Rebecca was alive.
Marcus brought his own kind of spark to this family, and tonight it felt so overwhelmingly bright, like an incandescent light filtering through all the cracks in my heart, creating a profoundly warm and penetrating glow.
Grant seemed pretty taken with Marcus, which wasn’t something that happened easily or often. It took him years to find loyal friendships, and that was something we’d wished for him for a very long time. Not that Marcus was his friend, more like a good influence, and I would hate for it to be ruined or spoiled.
My thoughts immediately transitioned to what happened in the attic the other night. We were kissing and touching—jerking each other, for Christ’s sake—with Grant downstairs. Taking a risk like that was so unlike me. What if, by chance, Grant had found us? Would he be appalled or angry? Would he accuse me of betrayal? He’d sounded so vulnerable that time we’d talked about me dating. He’d encouraged me to invite friends over more often, and even though I’d made it clear to Marcus that I didn’t want to turn my kid’s world on its axis again, it still felt too close for comfort.
As if I needed another reminder about the sensitivity of the topic, a car pulled into our driveway, and I stood on shaky legs, having forgotten the possibility that my mother-in-law might stop by tonight. Especially once she’d heard how excited Grant was about his costume. Fuck.
I waved as she got out of the car, and Marcus glanced back at me, his eyebrows drawn together. No big deal, he was only a friend, and maybe it was good that they finally met.
She was alone, likely because my father-in-law had grown mostly homebound since Rebecca’s death. I mentally kicked myself for not visiting more often. At least he hadn’t criticized my every move like my own father did.
“Grandma!” Grant called, bounding down the steps to greet her.
I stepped beside Marcus to help pass candy out to several newcomers as I watched her fawn over Grant’s getup. “That’s my mother-in-law. They live in Shaker and used to always stop by on Halloween night.”
“That’s cool,” Marcus replied, smiling as they headed up the stairs toward us.
“Oh, hello there. I’m Donna,” she said, then looked at me. “I didn’t realize you had company.”
“This is my friend, Marcus. He actually helped Grant with his costume.”
“And your shirt,” Grant pointed out, and I could see the confusion in Donna’s eyes as she took in my graphic tee, as if trying to line it all up in her brain. I supposed I hadn’t shared much the past month or so, outside of some general information about Grant and school, but I thought for sure Grant would’ve blabbed the rest to her.
“Marc is the guy who owns that cool shop I told you about,” Grant said once he filled a kid’s pumpkin basket with candy. So he had shared some things.
