Well, hell. It’s hard to argue with that. And best not to look too closely at how a statement like that makes me feel, particularly when it’s delivered so soon after the realization that we could make this something more if either of us was brave enough to try.
“I’m reachable by phone if you need anything at all. AndI’ll give you Miss Sue’s number too, okay? She lives next door. She can help if anything happens, and you need some backup, okay?”
“Okay,” he agrees. “No problem.”
“He usually goes to bed around eight or nine, but don’t stress about it too much since it’s a weekend. He’s probably going to want to squeeze out every minute of time with you that he can.”
Jack nods, smiling and stirring the rice. I turn off the stove, not wanting it to burn, and tap my fingers nervously on the counter. I feel like this puts us on shaky ground, the firm line between coach and player finally blurring away until we’re left with this—two adult men who spend quite a bit of time together. Time which could be mistaken for a relationship, as evidenced by Parker’s earlier “boyfriend” comment. Biting my lip, I consider bringing that up to Jack, but immediately discard it. Talk about a surefire way to make the man uncomfortable. No, better to keep that to myself for now and wait until we have more time to talk.
“Listen, Jacko, are yousure?It’s no trouble at all to send him over to Sue’s. Seriously, I feel like I’m coercing you into?—”
“Desmond! It’s okay, I want to. Really,” he says firmly. “I like Parker, and I like being here. I’d rather be here than alone in my dorm.”
We finish making Parker’s early dinner, and I call Sue to let her know the slight change of plan. She promises to bring over a casserole for them to eat, and no amount of arguing on my part convinces her it’s unnecessary. I figure it’ll get eaten no matter how much food I put in Parker’s stomach before I leave—he’s pretty much a bottomless pit.
I try to give Jack all the instructions one might need totake care of a kid, and find myself nervously hesitating at the door when it’s time to leave. It feels like this is a precipice, and I’m choosing to jump by leaving Parker with Jack. I couldn’t say why, but it feels far more significant than leaving him with the neighbor or asking Anthony to watch him does.
It feels, I realize sadly, like he’s my boyfriend. My partner.
“Have fun, and good luck,” Jack says, peering over the back of the couch at me. Parker, sitting right next to him and staring at the screen, agrees without breaking eye contact with his YouTube streamer.
“Yeah, bye.” He raises a hand and waves it in my general direction. Jack’s mouth pinches together like he wants to laugh.
“Bye, guys. See you later,” I mutter, taking one last look at the pair of them before walking out and closing the door.
15
Jack
Desmond’s neighbormight be the nicest woman I’ve ever met. She hands me a casserole dish and then proceeds to stand in the doorway, chatting as though the pan I’m holding isn’t roughly the temperature of the sun’s surface. Adjusting my grip to burn a different part of my hands, I listen as she tells me the proper way to serve it. I promise to add lettuce and sour cream on top, knowing full well Desmond doesn’t have either in his refrigerator.
“You just come on down and knock on my door if you need anything, okay?” she asks, peering at me somewhat sternly.
“I will. Thank you. We’re fine, though. Just watching TV.” I pause, blushing. “Also, we did homework.”
“Make sure you boys eat all of that,” she says, and I nod as I adjust my hands again. I can barely feel the heat at this point, all of my nerves have been burned to a crisp. “You young people don’t eat enough these days.”
I think about the package of Oreo cookies currently resting on the couch next to Parker. It’s possible I’m not very good at this babysitting thing.
When Sue finally heads back to her apartment next door, I hustle to the kitchen and set the casserole dish on the oven. Flapping my hands, I blow out a breath. It smells amazing, but I’m not sure anything could taste good enough to sacrifice all the skin on my hands.
“What did Miss Sue bring?” Parker asks, coming to peer at the dish. I block him from touching with my elbow, envisioning my first night being trusted to babysitting ending in a trip to the ER. He bends over and inhales dramatically. “She’s such a good cook. Way better than Desmond.”
“It does smell good,” I admit, but feel like I have to add, “Although Desmond’s food always tastes good, too.”
Parker laughs. “Okay, sure. Want to eat now? I’m hungry.”
“Sure,” I agree, amused. I don’t think I’ve seen himstopeating. It’s incredible that he’s so small. “Do you want to grab some plates and silverware? I’ll cut it up.”
Parker tries to coerce me into eating dinner on the couch in front of the TV, but I’m feeling a little bad about the fact that we’ve done nothing else tonight but watch YouTube after finishing his homework assignment. So, instead, we sit facing one another at the dining room table and Desmond’s absence feels strange for the first time all evening. I check my phone in case he’s texted me, but there’s nothing.
“Do you think the hockey team is winning?” Parker asks, blowing on the massive bite of casserole teetering on his fork.
“Uhm, let me check.” I pull up the internet, and take a look at the live reporting, noting that the game is currently tied at two. “Not winning, but they’re tied.”
“Cool,” he mumbles, struggling to talk around his food. “Can you see Uncle Des on the video? Sometimes Miss Sue and I will check on him.”
Touched by the request, I pull up the live feed and spin my phone around so he can watch. It takes a few minutes before the camera pans across the SCU bench, showing Coach Mackenzie with his arms crossed and his usual stern expression. Parker frowns, keeping his eyes on the screen until Desmond walks into view and bends over to say something to Vas. He brightens.
