“Yes, but she doesn’t go high enough,” Liam complains licking his fork again, this time getting a small chunk of noodle in his mouth. “She said you have to watch Hercules with me tonight because she can’t watch it again.”
Bennett laughs. “Is that what she said?”
“Yeah, she said…Hercules was a pushover.”
I shove a bite of lasagna into my mouth so I don’t laugh as I watch these two-exchange conversation back and forth.
“If you eat half of your veggies we’ll watch Hercules, little man.”
Liam scrunches up his nose, eyeing the two pieces of broccoli and three carrot slices hesitantly. He must really want to watch Hercules because after a few seconds he stabs the carrots with his fork and hurriedly shoves them into his mouth. He chews slowly, looking like he’s ready to lose his dinner on the table at any second, but eventually swallows the offending food.
“I don’t want to waste my food from China,” he says before taking another bite.
My face scrunches up, one eye more closed than the other. It must be enough to alert Bennett to my unspoken “What?” question.
“Kids are hungry in China.” Bennett shrugs, smiling. “I don’t know. It worked on me when my mom used it.”
**
Hercules floats off into the clouds to meet his parents and the credits roll across the screen. Slipping an arm behind his son, Bennett leans down and picks the sleeping Liam up before walking him upstairs. With nothing else to do, I turn off the TV and stand aimlessly in the living room. Now comes the super awkward time of night… figuring out where I sleep.
Getting lost in a children’s movie I haven’t seen since my youth was a nice escape. I almost beat Liam to be the first to sleep, my head falling to the side every few scenes. Thoughts from the day fall back into my head as I replay the afternoon. So much blood. To keep my mind occupied, I gather up the spilled crayons from the coffee table and shove them back in the box. Next I line up all the paper into a nice little pile, taking a second to scan each drawing.
The pages are filled with images of trees and fish. One I’m pretty sure is a zombie walking a dog downtown Main Street. Typical five-year-old drawings, I assume.
When I finish I’m left tapping my foot against the carpet until I decide to find the boys upstairs. At the top of the staircase Bennett and Liam are nowhere to be seen, but light filters into the hallway from the room on the left side guiding me in that direction.
Liam is sound asleep in a red Lightning McQueen race car bed. Bennett leans down tucking the covers around him before he places a quick kiss to his forehead with a whispered goodnight. My heart drips to the floor in a soggy puddle. Watching from the doorway soon makes me feel like I’m intruding on their special moment, but I’m also not willing to leave and miss it. It’s more heartwarming than any shirtless firefighter holding a kitten.
Bennett turns off Liam’s light and walks past me, stopping for a moment in the hallway and promising he’ll be right back. He returns less than a minute later holding a huge T-shirt with Worlds Best Dad written across the front.
“For you to sleep in. I’ll grab some items from your closet tomorrow.”
“Oh, thanks.” I hadn’t given any thought to what I would sleep in—only where. In fact, until this moment I’d forgotten about wearing the light blue scrubs I’d put on in the hospital bathroom. I’m glad someone is looking out for me.
He walks farther down the hall and leans into a room, flipping on a switch. “This is the bathroom. I don’t keep extra toothbrushes. I’m sorry.” Taking a few steps back, he turns on another light and another in a new room down the hall. “This is the guest bedroom. You should have everything you need, and if anything happens, I’m right across the hall.”
“Bathroom, guestroom, right. Got it.” We stop together, our first quiet moments of the entire day. Our eyes meet and there’s so many words I want to say, but the weariness of the afternoon sets in. When I open my mouth the only words to come out are, “Thanks, Bennett.”
He stalls for a second too, like he wants to say more. But with a shake of his head he runs his hand over my cheek. His fingertips are tender when he strokes. “See you in the morning, Nessa.”
I watch his strong back walk into his room before turning, bypassing the bathroom and heading straight for the bed in the guest room. Without a toothbrush there isn’t much for me to do with my nighttime routine and I’m way past caring. I quickly change and throw the scrub pants and everything else in the chair in the corner of the room. Bennett’s shirt is super soft and hangs to my knees, so I’m perfectly covered.
Under the comforter I relax into the pillow and expect to be sleeping in a matter of moments.
But it doesn’t happen.
Laying in the dark in Bennett’s spare room, all the memories from today come crashing into my thoughts. The shattering of my broken window, the blood pooling out of Mad Dog’s chest, and somewhere mixed up in all those emotions is the news Bennett is a dad. Scenes of him scraping off the leftover food from Liam’s plate into the trash or grabbing him a blanket to watch the movie pepper my mind. The day doesn’t fit together. Blood and bullets don’t match with everything else.
It doesn’t make sense.
Someone died today. Someone I’ve never met before, but who was simply in my bakery for whatever reason. Probably not a good reason, but he didn’t deserve to die.
The tears catch up to me fast before I have time to do anything about them. I gasp and sniffle, quickly burying my head in the pillow so not to wake up Bennett or Liam. For a few minutes I let myself go, the pillow case dampening with each tear shed. I clutch the material to my face muffling the sounds, but a few small sniffles make it through.
The bed dips and two strong arms wrap around my chest. “Shhh,” Bennett whispers into the back of my head, his breath lost in my hair.
I roll over, fisting the material of his shirt and bringing my head his chest. “I’m sorry.” The words are muffled between half sobs.
