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When we reach the threshold to my large kitchen, she squeezes my hand tight.
I squeeze back, reassuring her.
She responds with a tight nod and a crooked smile.
Here goes nothing.
Linc is busying himself with the Italian made espresso machine. Micah is sitting at the granite kitchen island, his iPad clenched in his little hands, his attention laser focused on whatever he’s watching.
Linc got sole custody of then nine-month-old Micah. It took a DNA test to confirm Micah was his son. His bitch of a wife wasn’t sure. She’d been cheating behind my brother’s back for a little over a year, fucking not one, but two different men without condoms.
“Good morning, guys,” I say.
“Good morning, Uncle Levi,” Micah lifts his head up, greeting me with a beaming smile.
“Someone got a haircut,” I note.
“I got one yesterday afternoon before soccer,” he brushes a hand over his sandy blond hair. “I wanted to let it grow, but Daddy said it was getting too long.”
“It looks good,” I say.
“Thank you!” he beams wide.
His big blue eyes shift to the woman standing next to me.
“Good morning,” he says. “What’s your name?”
“Good morning. My name is Jules.”
Micah drops his iPad on the counter, jumps off the high stool and rushes towards us. He’s all decked out in his school uniform.
He assesses Jules with a critical eye, scanning her body up and down. He spends a little too much time fixated on her dainty toes, painted in an orangey coral shade.
“Hi, Jules,” he waves, meeting her gaze. “My name is Micah Alexander Aldridge,” he blurts out. “And I’m six. And it’s Micah. Just Micah. Not Michael.”
“My name is Jules Madeleine Salinger,” my girl plays along. “And I’m twenty-three. And it’s Jules. Just Jules. Not Julie,” my girl parrots.
“That’s funny,” Micah giggles. “You said the same thing I did.”
“I like the way you introduced yourself,” Jules says.
“I like you,” Micah responds.
She laughs.
He giggles so sweetly.
“That’s my daddy,” Micah points behind him. “His name is Linc Aldridge. And it’s Linc. Just Linc. Not Lincoln. He’s older than you. He’s older than Uncle Levi, too.”
Micah only recently became particular about names to stand up to a name-bully at his school. After hearing my brother’s name when a parent called him out, this kid made fun of Linc’s name, stating only lazy––or dumb–––people gave their kids a nickname instead of a proper name.
Jules laughs. “Good morning, Linc.”
“Good morning, Jules,” my brother responds. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He crosses the kitchen with a hand already extended.
Jules takes it in a two-handed handshake.
He towers over her. Barefoot, she barely reaches his chest.
