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“Raffi, why don’t you talk to Matthew?” Isabelle suggests, clearly trying to prevent her son from finding out anything more about her and me.
“Hey, you wanna see something?” Matty says. I realize he’s showing his stitches to Raffi.
“It’s a long scar!” Raffi follows Matty’s finger trailing the stitches. “What happened?”
“Car accident.”
The accident is behind him now, but from time to time, it still makes him think of our parents.
The slow traffic is allowing me to keep glancing at the kids through the rearview mirror.
Raffi looks at Matty, concerned. “Does it still hurt?” he takes my brother’s arm very gently. Like mother like son? And do I see a hint of a big brother instinct?
“No, it doesn’t hurt anymore,” Matty declares cheerfully. It sounds like he’s trusting Raffi. “It did hurt a lot back then, though. My teddy bear got crushed too in the accident, but Amber fixed him.”
“Who’s Amber?”
“I have another brother. Amber is his wife. She’s a bear doctor. People call her Amber the Mender. She’s cool.”
“Does your teddy have a name?”
“Bjork.”
“Cool. I have a toy dog. I love him. His name is Mr. Oreo because he’s black. I’ve had him since I was three.”
“Same! My mom got me Bjork when I was three!” Matty says as if he’s just found a soul brother.
“Cool! I know I’m supposed to have grown up and stuff, but Mr. Oreo is still with me,” Raffi admits with a degree of embarrassment.
“I still have Bjork too. Although I don’t bring him everywhere now.”
I turn to Isabelle. “How old is Raffi?”
“Ten.”
“Ten? He’s so tall!” But I shouldn’t be surprised. I don’t know what his father looked like, but I’d like to think the boy has his mother’s genes.
A proud smile hangs on her face as if wiping her tiredness. “I guess he’s tall for a boy his age. How about Matthew?”
“Ah, call him Matty. He’s nine.”
“He’s a smart nine-year-old.”
Yep, and a troublemaker.
“Clayton, what do you do?” Raffi’s attention is back on me.
“Raffi!” warns Isabelle.
“It’s okay. I run a yacht business with my older brother.”
“You’re a sailor?”
“Well, my brother is more of a sailor. He was in the Navy. I used to be in the Air Force.”
Once again, I glance in the rearview mirror.
Raffi’s eyes flare with eagerness. “You’re a pilot?”
