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“Is your aunt around?”
“She said she was tired and went up to her room a couple hours ago,” his voice drops to a whisper on the next sentence. “I think she’s just getting drunk because she’s sad she got dumped by her boyfriend.”
A smile involuntarily creeps across my face. “And you know this how?”
“I heard it. And then I pieced the pieces together,” he informs me. “She had that look on her face that she gets when she’s heartbroken. I called it a poopy face and grandma laughed at me. She was also wearing the perfume she wears when she goes on a date but she looked sad when she came in so it wasn’t hard to know why.”
Nathaniel’s a nine year old with an affinity for eavesdropping, add that with an uncanny desire to know and understand everything and anything and I’ve got a little detective on my hands. He’s a kid who spends his free time solving puzzles and taking apart computers. When he’s not doing that, he’s either reading some book or doing school work. He never causes any trouble, extremely well behaved and polite and also a little antisocial.
Honestly, he’s a perfect kid. And I’m grateful every day that I have him in my life. He’s the most important thing to me.
“We’ll question your aunt about the break up over dinner,” I assure him.
“Okay, dad. Drive safe.” He hangs up and I debate heading to the office or just calling it a day so I can spend more time with my son.
In the end I choose to head home. Nate will always be my priority. The large gates into my family’s home swing open with only one press of a button in my car. I can’t see it, but there’s a facial recognition security software running as I drive past the gates to confirm my identity. We don’t have guards or people to protect us. All we have is technology.
The mansion is huge, with more rooms than I’ve ever had time to count. It’s built on an expansive land that has the house, a cottage and even a horse racing track in the back. I grew up here. All my childhood memories are here.
I drive up to the front of the house where our personal valet is already waiting to drive the car into the garage. He accepts the key from me once I step out. I offer him a short nod before heading up the steps leading into the house. It’s quiet, echoey. It’s always been like that, which makes sense considering only five people live there. Apart from the help of course. The house is huge, much too large for us. I used to hate it here. It made me feel so small and growing up here was lonely. Then I met Nate and his presence has helped greatly with the hollowness in my chest.
I find him in one of the living rooms with his grandmother. He comes running at me as soon as I appear in the doorway. I’m already in position. Knees bent and body braced for impact. Despite bracing myself, the force of his hug manages to knock me slightly backward. My breath leaves me in a rush as I hold his body to mine. He’s so much bigger, already five feet tall. He’s a bit lanky but he’s growing faster.
“Damn, sport. You’re getting way too big for this,” I say affectionately ruffling his head full of curly brown hair.
“Hi, dad,” he says, leaning backward so he can look me over. “You look tired.”
I smile. “Thanks, Nate. That’s what every man wants to hear.”
“You’ll never guess what I did today,” he starts telling me, his green eyes gleaming.
He has a line of freckles dotting under his eyes and over his nose.
“Considering I’m never able to guess half the things you do, I’m sure that’s correct.”
“Grandma showed me how to fertilize the plants. We used manure. Do you want to know what kind of manure?” he says, his voice going lower. “Horse manure. We went our back to the racing track and got it. Manure is horse shit.”
I make a face. “First off, you’re not allowed to say shit-”
“You say shit all the time.”
“That’s because I’m old,” I counter. “Also, you’re telling me you were packing horse shit? That’s gross, sport.”
He giggles. “You just said shit again, dad.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to step back, Nathaniel. Don’t want you contaminating me,” I say, taking a step away.
He raises his palm towards me. “Its fine, dad. I already washed my hands.”
I shake my head vigorously. “Nope. Stay away from me.”
I pretend to run away and he’s jumping on me in a bid to tackle me. I actually do end up on the floor, his small body above mine.
“Dad, I can’t stay away from you. It’s you and me, remember?” he asks, sitting on my stomach.
My mood sobers up pretty fast at that. I used to say that to him all the time growing up.
“Of course, sport,” I say softly, looking into those green eyes that mirror mine.
