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“Yeah, I know.” I try to calm my motherly jitters.
“You wanna go on the simulator now?” Wyatt asks Matty.
“Um… no, I want to see Raffi fly.”
“All right,” Wyatt agrees. “We’ll stay here then.”
Moments later, the two flying boys join us. Side by side, in their matching overalls, they epitomize what father and son would look like in my dreams. Raffi even mimics the way Clayton walks, holding the helmet on his hip.
I melt like a weeping candle. Hiding my brewing tears, I hold my phone up to take a few snaps of the two cuties. And before I embarrass myself—and my son—I replace the vision of my silly dreams with thoughts of jet engines and oil.
“I’m surprised they have his size,” I nod at Raffi’s overalls.
“What can I say? I came prepared,” Clayton gushes.
Did he get them custom-made?
Seeing my questioning gaze, Clayton simply winks at me. That man is impossible!
“How do I look, Mom?”
“You look like a pilot,” I respond proudly.
“Good answer, Mommy,” Wyatt teases. Maybe because of his age, but this ‘tour guide’ surely knows how to push this single mother’s button.
I kneel in front of Raffi, mundanely touching the zipper of his overalls. “Listen to Clayton, okay? If you get sick—”
“He’ll be fine. I’m not Tom Cruise.” Clayton rolls his eyes.
He’s not—he’s a real top gun. On him, the lowly green overalls don’t just look good. They have become a symbol of his undisputed masculinity. Nowthat—is some sex appeal. To think that he was single when we met baffles me.
“What kind of jet is that?” Raffi queries.
“It’s an L-39 Albatross, my man. And we’re gonna jump in shortly.”
Then he turns to Matty. “Stay with Wyatt, okay?”
Raffi flashes a backward glance at me as they get ready to climb aboard, then he looks over to Matty, who’s giving him a small wave. He stops as if considering the little boy left behind. He then tells Clayton, “Hey, man, actually, I’ll stay with Matty. I want to go on the simulator too.”
“Raffi, it’s okay,” Clayton assures him.
It’s not fear that’s stopping my son—it’s his character.
“No, I’ll stay with Matty. Why don’t you take Mom?”
Clayton’s gaze lingers on Raffi as if commending him. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Take Mom.” Raffi walks back to Matty, who’s beaming like he’s not alone anymore. They give each other a fist bump.
“Come on then, boys!” Wyatt leads the kids into the building next door.
Clayton watches Raffi in admiration. “Wow… that was the sweetest thing I saw a boy do. Wonder who he got that from?”
“He’s always wanted to be a big brother,” I murmur as my eyes blink furiously and a sniffle escapes my nose.
He turns to me. “Hey… are you crying?”
I am—I can’t even stop myself.
