The kid clapped a hand over his mouth and gave him a sheepish look. The kid didn’t say anything. Hank thought he heard a snort of muffled laughter and shot a look at the genie. He still lay there, seeming absorbed in his book.
Hank shook his head and looked back at Theodore. “Why wouldn’t you come out of the bottle, kid?”
“’Cause.”
“I want an answer.”
Theodore looked down at his feet. “’Cause I wanted you to see it, too.”
“So you wouldn’t leave?”
The kid nodded.
Hank watched him. “Did you think about just asking me?”
He nodded again. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
Well, hell, he thought. The kid was right. He wouldn’t have come. “Look, kid, you can’t go through life manipulating everyone to get your own way.” He could just hear Smitty if she’d heard that one. She’d have made some remark about the black pot talking to the kettle.
“But it worked.”
“This time, maybe, you got away with it. But next time? No way, kid.”
“Are you gonna give me a licking?”
That took him aback. “Did your father?”
“Sometimes.”
Hank clasped his hands behind his back and looked away just as the genie whipped his nose back into the book. Hank looked back at Theodore. “Well, I’m not your father, kid.”
Theodore was quiet for a long time, then whispered, “Could we pretend you were?”
“You want me to take a switch to your butt?”
“No.”
“Good. ’Cause I don’t hit kids.”
The kid mumbled something.
“I can’t hear you.”
He looked up at Hank, his face serious. “I’d take a licking if it meant you could... someone would—” Theodore stopped, then blurted out, “I just want a dad.”
He heard a sniffle and shot a quick glance at the genie. The book was shimmying in his pudgy, beringed hands.
Hank looked back at the kid; his face was turned up as if he were waiting for him to say yes. Hank shifted his gaze away and stared at that stupid clock. “I’m not dad material, kid. Sorry.”
“What is dad material?”
Hank laughed a bitter laugh. “Hell if I know. I never had a father.” He looked at the kid but could tell his words hadn’t satisfied him.
“Do you have to have a father to be a father? Can’t you learn?”
Hank rubbed his chin and realized he had no answer. He paused, then squatted down so he was at eye level with him. “Look, I was an orphan and you’re an orphan. We have something in common, so how about we just be buddies instead?”
The kid was quietly thoughtful. “I’ve never had a buddy. What do they do?”
