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Troy said, “It was that you were gone.” And looked down at the table.
Beckett’s arm tightened. “Oi,” he said gently. “Look at me.” When Troy raised troubled blue eyes to his father’s face, Beckett went on. He didn’t say anything Quinn would have expected. He asked, “What happened next?”
“I was running,” Troy said, “and trying to find you, but it was very foggy, and it was raining heaps, and I couldn’t see, and I was lost. And then I couldn’t put on my shoes. I tried and tried, but I couldn’t get them on, and you’d be angry, because you say we have to wear shoes in Montana. But that’s the only part I remember, except I was worried that Bacon would run out in front of a car, because we had to go across the street and I didn’t have his lead. And I couldn’t get my shoes on, so I couldn’t stop him from running.”
“You were trying to do the right things,” Beckett said, “but they weren’t working.”
“I guess,” Troy said doubtfully. “Except I was lost.” And took a sip of his cocoa. Quinn didn’t like the look in his eyes.
Beckett paused a long moment, and Quinn held her breath. Then he said, “Mate. Want to climb on up in my lap while we talk about this?”
Troy ducked his head, then nodded and said, “Yes. But it’s a baby thing. Garrett T. in my class says boys don’t sit in laps. Or cuddle. No boys cuddle at my school.”
Beckett said, “Garrett T is dead wrong, if you ask me. I’m a man, and I like to cuddle. I especially like to cuddle you, because you’re my son.”
“Really?” Troy asked.
“Really,” Beckett said. “So come on up here, mate, and let’s have a man-to-man talk.”
Troy did it, Beckett wrapped his arms around his son and held him close, and Quinn might be tearing up a little here.
“It’s heaps,” Beckett said at last, “going to a new school in a new country. Learning all new rules. A person could feel like he’s never going to know the rules or do the right things.”
“Yes,” Troy said. “I’m pretty good at reading and maths, but those things don’t count. I can run fast and swing all the way across the monkey bars, and that kind of counts, but you have to be good at Gaga Ball for it to really count, and I don’t know how. And you have to like football and have a football and practice throwing it if you’re a boy, because that’s a boy thing. But a football is very hard if you try to catch it, and it hurts. And I said I was scared of swimming and everybody laughed, and Garrett T said I was a baby.”
Beckett looked at Quinn. She hoped that look meantHelp me,because she was jumping in here. “Did everybody laugh?” she asked. “Are you sure?”
Troy thought about it, because Troy would always think about it.“Somepeople laughed, I guess. Or maybe most people. Claire didn’t, but she doesn’t count, either, because she’s a girl, and boys aren’t s’posed to have friends who are girls, or like swinging on the monkey bars and talking about dragons and magic things.”
“Who says?” Beckett said. “You like Quinn, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Troy said, “but Garrett T. says—”
“Sometimes,” Quinn said, “people talk more than other people, or they talk louder than other people, and they think that makes them right.”
“Like that guy who Dad pushed,” Troy said. “He talked very loud.”
“Exactlylike that,” Quinn said. “You’re an excellent observer.” Troy sat up a little straighter, and Quinn went on. “Being loud doesn’t make them right, though. I like Claire, too, and I like you, and I like football and have a football and like throwing it. So am I a boy or a girl?”
“I don’t know how to throw a football,” Beckett said. “Whoops. Maybe I’m a girl, too.” Troy giggled, and Beckett said, “Those rules sound pretty silly to me. Maybe Quinn can show us both how to play football if you want to learn. But if youdon’twant to learn, if you want to swing on the monkey bars with Claire instead and talk about dragons, that’s OK, too.”
“It is?” Troy slewed around so he could see Beckett’s face.
“Aw, mate,” Beckett said, “of course it is.”
“Even if it’s not a boy thing?” Troy said. “And boys are s’posed to go hunting with their dads and shoot animals, and I don’t. I don’t want to shoot animals and kill them and see their blood at all!”
“I don’t want to shoot animals, either,” Beckett said. “So I’m never doing that with you. I don’t care whether you do boy things or girl things. I don’t think thereareboy things and girl things, not really.”
“Well, except putting marshmallows on sticks,” Quinn felt compelled to point out.
“Oi,” Beckett said. “I didn’t fight you on the wood chopping, did I?”
“No,” she said. “I also plan to ask you to vacuum tomorrow, since I’m cleaning the kitchen and doing the mopping.”
“You see?” Beckett told Troy. “I plan to get better at cooking, too. I may learn to bake cookies, who knows? Of course, you and Janey may learn before I do, and then you’ll have to teach me. Also, if you want Claire to come over and play sometime, go on and invite her.”
“I can’t,” Troy said sadly. He was drinking his cocoa again, though, which Quinn figured was progress, and his body was more relaxed, nestled against Beckett.
