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But I don’t actually want to talk about them right now. I clear my throat, hoping Landon won’t press it further.
He doesn’t. He just nods, too.
And then there’s a very particular look passing between us—a look I honestly can’t remember sharing with anyone else—a look of a certain kind of recognition. Neither of us knows much about what the other has gone through in life, but we know enough right now to be able to say,‘I get you.’We both feel deeply disappointed in and betrayed by at least one person who was supposed to care about us.
I guess that isn’t very uncommon, but still.
“Okay, I’m done!” Rae suddenly says, triumphant. “Look! I found all the words!” She holds up her menu so we can see her completed word search, and then she flips the paper over. “And I made the pictures rainbow-colored! Well, not really rainbow, ‘cause I only have…um…” she glances at the crayons, “…four colors. But I used them all!”
I grin as I inspect her hard work. “That’s very pretty! You stayed in the lines and everything!”
She nods happily at me.
Then she looks across the table. “Do you like it, Landon?”
“‘Course I do,” he says, his tone lighthearted again. “You did a kick-butt job!”
“Kick-butt,” she repeats with a giggle.
He shoots me a look like he wonders if he’s in trouble for her saying that, but I just chuckle. Out of all the things a kid can pick up from an adult, the phrase‘kick-butt’is not the worst.
He flashes me a smile, then says to her, “Yep. Do you like coloring a lot? I know Abby does.”
She nods excitedly. “Yes! I have crayons at home! And some markers! My markers are running out of color, though, but that’s okay. I really use crayons more than I use markers. And I have a shoebox with other stuff in it! Some glitter and some stickers and some little jewels!”
“Wow! You’ve got it made over there, huh?”
She nods even more excitedly than before.
I laugh a little. “Yeah, she loves art stuff. She really had fun last Christmas when the kids in her grade got to make crafts and take them to nursing homes around town.”
She’s practically bouncing up and down in the booth now. “Yes! Oh! I hope we get to do that again! It was so, so fun to take our….”
My focus fades from her as an idea drifts into my mind.
Rae loved making art for those residents, and they loved that she did it—in fact, I suddenly, specifically remember her telling me after her trip how happy everyone was about their special gifts. I look at Landon, who’s keeping her engaged on the topic, and I wonder…would his grandma like a card or picture or craft, too?
Would Landon even go for that? I know Rae would be overjoyed to get to create something again before Christmas. And I know he said his grandma flew off the handle yesterday, but we could probably find a good time to take Rae to visit her, right? She can’t be in a terrible rage all the time, can she? Besides, Rae is so sweet and cute that I don’t believe she’d fail to put someone in a good mood; she definitely keepsmesmiling. At the very least, she could make something and have Landon deliver it for her.
Eagerness to bring it up rises through me—but just as I’m opening my mouth, it occurs to me that I should hold off for a little while. It would be better to talk to Landon about it in private. If he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, I want him to have the opportunity to say so; I wouldn’t want to mention it in front of Rae and get her hyped up and somehow pressure him to go along with it.
Yeah, that sounds awkward. I’ll wait.
I work on refocusing on what’s happening now. The two of them have gone from talking about arts and crafts to talking about his tattoos. He’s got his arms stretched out for easier viewing.
“Black isreallyyour favorite color,” she notes. “You didn’t pick any other colors!”
“Sure didn’t. I have another tattoo on my shoulder—” he reaches back to tap at one shoulder blade, “and it’s black, too.” Now he taps at the trees around his right arm. “I guess some sunset colors would look pretty cool with this one.”
She nods enthusiastically. “Yeah!”
As I shrug a shoulder, I speak up to say, “I like it the way it is.” I spend a moment studying the elaborate, realistic-looking silhouettes before I admit, “I love it, actually. Something about the colorlessness is really gorgeous.”
Oh, it truly is. Although he’s not as pale as I am, I wouldn’t say he’s tan, so the black ink looks striking against his skin.
When several seconds go by with neither him nor Rae replying, I look around. She’s writing her name on her menu, and he’s…
…looking at me.
