"Oh! And Mrs. Perry asked if you were 'emotionally available.'" Finn made air quotes. "And I said I didn't know what that meant but you cry sometimes during animated movies so probably yes?"
"Kill me," Brad muttered.
"That's enough news from school," I intervened. "Homework time."
"But I haven't told you about lunch when Jayden's mom asked if Dad was still single—"
"HOMEWORK," Brad and I shouted together.
Finn grinned, pure seven-year-old mischief. "You two are funny when you're embarrassed. Your faces match."
He skipped off to his room, leaving Brad and me in the ruins of our dignity.
"So," Brad said eventually. "Good day at school?"
"Your fan club sends their regards. Specifically, their phone numbers, measurements, and a disturbing number of casseroles."
"Casseroles?"
"Apparently nothing says 'I want to date you' like a tuna noodle surprise."
He laughed, then winced as his knee protested. "And how's Principal Harrison? Still 'emotionally available'?"
"Stop it."
"Hey, you started it with the fan club comment." He adjusted the ice pack, watching me with an expression I couldn't read. "Though I notice you didn't give anyone your number."
"How would you know?"
"Finn reports everything. He's basically a seven-year-old surveillance system."
As if summoned, Finn's voice drifted from his room: "I can hear you talking about me! Also, Miss Serena, your momcalled while you were in the bathroom but I told her you were busy falling in love!"
I was going to have to join witness protection.
"Just to clarify," Brad said, his grin widening, "which one of us are you falling in love with? Me or my disaster of a son?"
"The dog," I said. "Once you get one. I'm definitely falling in love with the future dog."
"So you're planning on being around for the future dog?"
The question hung between us, loaded with subtext and possibility.
"That depends," I said carefully. "On how long it takes to get one."
"Could be months. Years, even. Very hard to find the right dog."
"Then I guess I'd better get comfortable."
We looked at each other across the living room, the word 'temporary' slowly dying between us, even as neither of us was brave enough to bury it completely.
From his room, Finn called out: "If you guys are done being weird, can someone help me with math? And maybe explain what 'emotionally available' means? I want to use it in a sentence tomorrow!"
That evening, I implemented new programs at Brad's dining table, creating adaptive worksheets for my students with various challenges. Brad had set up camp beside me, allegedly reviewing game footage but actually watching me work with the intensity usually reserved for playoff analysis.
"This is genius," he said, picking up my emotion regulation chart for autistic students—a masterpiece of faces ranging from 'volcanic meltdown' to 'suspiciously calm.' "You've basically created a roadmap for human feelings."
"Some kids need GPS for emotions. Others need a full topographical map with elevation markers."
